Remembrance
by Chapin
Summary: This story follows Series 6/Episode 8. It follows the Ellingham family through some 25 years of living and growing. It attempts to remain true to the canon of the show as well as pick up on names, events and themes from the Doc Martin FanFiction stories that have a common thread. There is no intent to plagiarize but to enhance and appreciate the work of good authorsl.
1. Chapter 1

**A note of explanation: **This story contains spoilers that reveal happenings from Season 6. What you are about to read tells of the Ellingham family from Louisa's surgery at the end of Season six through 25 or so years of living. The author attempts to remain true to the the six series that make up what we call The Canon. However there is a thread that runs through all of the good stories in FanFiction. I make no apology for reflecting on this in this story. To me it is my second canon. My intent is not to plagiarize. I hope you authors will take it as a compliment on your good ideas and fine writing - and of course your understanding of what happened that could not be covered in the brief television episodes.

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. I do appreciate your reviews.**

REMEMBRANCE

CHAPTER ONE

"Mum, did you and Dad ever consider divorce?"

Joan and I had slipped down a side street a short walk from Sacre Coeur, wanting to distance ourselves from the crowds. The babel of voices tripping over the cobblestones made talking difficult. Add the noise of taxis and it was near impossible. The diminutive Cafe Alsace with its beautiful pastries was perfect. On our third day of a week-long mother-daughter pilgrimage to France, we had made our way to Montmartre. There was the smell of the rain-soaked pavement and the fresh feel of the spring afternoon with no demands on us. My mind had meandered to warm thoughts about the wedding and I was taking a bite of a scrumptious dark chocolate strawberry torte. Gosh, I thought, this is to be savoured, as I licked some whipped cream off the fork. Joan had said something and all I really heard was the word "divorce."

"What, Joanie? What was that?"

"You know Mum, did you and Dad ever think about divorce?"

I am certain many in our fishbowl village had wondered this about Martin and Louisa Ellingham, but my daughter was the first to say it in my presence.

"Where in the world did that come from? I think you know your dad and I are happy together."

"Yes. Yes. I know that, but many of my friends come from divided homes. When we were in school it was one week with mum and one week with dad. I always hated it when Kerra spent almost every holiday away from Portwenn. And now Eva and Alan's parents are going their separate ways. Mum, they have been married longer than you and Dad! Eva is so distraught and it really makes me sad for her, for all of them. I'm sorry Mum. I didn't mean to cast a dark cloud on our time together."

"Oh Joanie, if it's on your mind it deserves talking about. To settle your mind, no, we never considered divorce and you can be assured we are not going to. That said, you know we have talked a bit about this. Your father and I didn't have an easy time of it in the early years. We weren't two ships passing in the night. We were on two different seas. So much misunderstanding. I'll never forget the time I broke up with Dad and he proposed to me two days later. I was elated. Of course you know we didn't get married that time. Never got to the altar. Stood up the congregation really."

What I told Joan was true. We never did use the word divorce as a possibility or, God forbid, a threat. If it is only the stream with stones that sings, then the first year of our marriage was fortissimo and not always in tune. To maintain the metaphor, we often found ourselves in rapids with large rocks that threatened to do us harm.

I really did not want to reveal to Joan how hard it truly was.

I recalled one evening when I cried uncontrollably and beat on Martin's chest. "Martin, how many chances will we have for love in this life? I am 37. You are 44. You tell me you love me and damn Martin I can assure you that I love you. Do you think this happens every day? I want to make this work. I will do whatever I can to make our being together good."

Words have never been easy for Martin. That's not completely true of course. If he can analyze it medically, the words flow. In matters of the heart, he is King George before Lionel Logue. I did not know what to expect. That night he embraced me and held me tightly as if I would disappear if he let go. The only words from his mouth were, "I am so sorry, Louisa," and "You are my life," but his word without words continued when I looked into his face. There was fear and sadness and concern and yes...love. His eyes were red, welling with tears. The truth of it is, that night's experience carried us over shoals that have upset many a marital boat. The other miracle that happened that night was that our dear son stayed asleep and the phone did not ring.


	2. Chapter 2

**REMEMBRANCE CHAPTER TWO by Chapin**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six**

**Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input**.

CHAPTER TWO

"I love chocolate and strawberries."

"Mum, you love chocolate and anything. I am surprised you have not served us pickles dipped in chocolate. I guess you would have if Dad did not play the food governor."

"Well your dad has softened his ways. He hid my McVities once. Just once mind you. That brought on the fireworks."

We both enjoyed a good laugh over that and then Joan asked me, "OK Mum it didn't happen the first time. What happened to make it work? You did have a wedding!"

"Well of course Joanie. The pictures are on the wall, aren't they? But I'll tell you what happened. James happened. We might have just thrown it all over and thought it not worth the effort, but having a child changed everything. I will never forget the afternoon your father brought Auntie Joan to the hospital to see the baby.  
>I will never, never forget her words.<p>

"He's the best mistake you two have ever made. So for goodness sake sort something out between the two of you to give this little lad the family he deserves. Otherwise I shall just have to knock your two heads together."

Suddenly the muscles in my tear ducts became involuntary and began releasing their contents onto my cheeks. Perhaps it was bringing our sweet Aunt Joan to mind. What I really knew it to be was the overwhelming visceral response of my whole being to the thought of all we could have missed. The warmth of that spring day in Paris could not prevent a palpable chill from coursing through my body.

"Mummy. I'm sorry. I really am."

"It's fine Sweetheart. We did make it to the altar and way beyond, didn't we?  
>And you know what? It wasn't because we had to. It was because we wanted to. We did love each other. We deeply wanted James to have a mum and a dad together, really together, not just living in the same house.<p>

"Don't get the idea everything came up roses. That first year was so hard, but we managed it and it became easier. We did not have some weird conversion. Your father can still crawl inside himself and clam up and I can be obstinate and overreact. We had to have some basic understandings. I don't know why storms arise more at night, but they do. Your dad was perfectly capable of going to sleep right in the middle of an argument and awaken as if nothing had happened. And me, I am lying on a bed of potatoes and not able to sleep. I insisted that no one sleeps until there is a basic settling of the issue or mutually laying it to rest, agreeing to talk about it again. It became a firm rule. That one understanding has helped us more than you can ever imagine. You know of course that many a night I have to tell your dad that we are not going to sleep yet."

"Mum, how in the world did you ever get together? Seems like if you were magnets, you repelled more than attracted."

"Well, sweetheart, I can't explain it, but there was a spark, a really strong attraction. Because of that, we went through all the emotions that people with smooth courtships go through. That fire between us made us miserable when we were apart and jealous of the thought of the other being with anyone else. And when we were together Martin would say, "I don't understand you," and I would often say, "Why do you do that?" after he did something to totally offend me.

"You have to understand, your dad and I brought more suppressed emotional baggage into our relationship than will fit in the boot of his big car. You don't know the whole story but you know enough to know that it is true. This cafe does not have enough desserts to get us through all that story this afternoon, or to endure a vision of Dad's raised eyebrows if we tried. Look Joanie, know that I have never doubted your father's love and care. And I want to assure you he has never had a reason to doubt mine for him.

"One of the hardest challenges in life is for two people to learn to live and love together day in and day out for a lifetime. It's really hard, but Joanie, it is worth it, because it's one of the most wonderful gifts in life to be with someone like your dad. Sure things happened that could have caused us to consider divorce. They happen in every relationship. Your parents are flawed in many ways, far from perfect, except for one thing. Your dad is perfect for me and he told me once that I was perfect for him. I was having a low time of insecurity and your dad said,'Louisa, there may be many perfect women in this world, but you're the only one who is perfect for me.'"

"Dad really said that?"

"Yes. Yes he did. I know his mind can short-circuit and he can come out with hurtful or embarrassing comments. But there are three times your father can actually say what's on his heart. One is when he is under emotional stress. Two is when he has had a good bit of wine. And, believe it or not, three is when he picks up his pen and writes. His written words are amazing at expressing what his tongue cannot get out. I've never thrown away the letters and poems he has written me."

"Poems?"

"Yes, Joanie, poems!"

And warmth returned to our spring day as I recalled his words,

I awoke one day  
>Not to the eastern sun<br>But to your presence  
>That filled forever my empty night<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

REMEMBRANCE CHAPTER THREE by Chapin

The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.

Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six

Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input.

CHAPTER THREE

Joan had no idea what her simple question about divorce would evoke. This amazing woman sitting across the small table from her was a wonderful mother and was more and more becoming a close friend and confidant. Talk of her parents' journey made her grateful for her family. There was much comfort in what her Mum had said, but there was a fear that still gnawed deep within her.

"Thank you, Mum, for that. I wish it helped me fear the future less. How can you know when you have found the right person?"

"Don't spend your life looking for "Mr. Right," Joan. Instead focus on being the right person. You are not a shallow person. You have insight and discernment. Trust what we and others have given you. Our family faced more than our share of hard times, and we faced them together. You will have bumps in your road. Some you will of necessity face alone and sometimes you can share the burden. But believe me when I tell you that you have what you need. You will be fine, kid.

"And now I suggest that you cut into that poached pear or the whipped cream around it is going to be missing."

The waitress suddenly appeared.

"Voulez-vous un autre café?"

"Oui, s'il vous plaît, et aussi je voudrais une deuxième poires pochées au vin blanc avec chantilly."

"Oui, bien sùr."

"Merci."

"You know I do not usually have this stuff on my mind. This first year of veterinary training is a bit overwhelming, but I do not want to think about that now. What shall we do tomorrow?"

My mobile was buried in my purse but I thought I heard it ring. I hurried to get to it before they rang off. "It's Dad. Hello Dad."

"Joan. I couldn't reach you earlier so wanted to try again. Are you and your mum alright? No problems there I hope."

"Not at all. Right now we are enjoying time together in a small cafe. Tonight we are invited to supper with Monsieur et Madame Llompart. I am really glad Mum will get to meet them. They were so kind to me."

"You do know I worried about you every day of that term you were in Paris?"

"Dad, Monsieur Llompart was more protective of me than you would have been. Well maybe not. I'm not sure that's possible, is it? I love you Dad."

"Yes. Don't forget, you are my girl."

"I will always be your girl. Would you like to talk to Mum?"

"Hello Martin."

"Louisa, Joan says you are enjoying yourselves. Please be careful. I hope you are taking cabs and not the Métro. You know I miss you."

"Yes I do Martin. And I miss you. I always feel half there when we are apart like this, but the time with Joanie is really good. We'll be late tonight so we can talk tomorrow if you like."

"Yes, fine. But will you message me when you are safely back in your hotel tonight?"

"Of course. Have you seen my dad?"

"He was at the market earlier. Said with all the good weather, he had been working in his garden. He seemed fine to me. I love you Louisa."

"Yes my dear Martin. I love you."

"Don't forget to text me! Good-bye."

"Bye bye Love."

"Oh Joan, here's our coffee. And what's this? Another poached pear?"

"Out of self defense. Enjoy as much as you want. Dad always worries about us, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does Joan. He always has. But you do know that is not the main reason he called today, don't you?"

"So why did he call?"

"Your dad hates being alone. He was alone for 40 years. But once we were married he didn't like us to be apart, especially at night. When I had teacher conferences away, he would call daily at least. Once, after I returned from a conference I realized he had switched our pillows."

"But Dad's not romantic. Not like that. How did you know?"

"Because I keep a tissue in my pillow. And he does not. And don't sell your dad short. There was a time when we was absolutely and totally inept in a relationship. At that time his photo was next to "clueless" in the dictionary.

"But that was before. Over the years, he has become a very caring man. Even now he can stumble with words but his every action is care and love."

"I know you're right Mum, but you know I remember when I cared for Mrs. Bosanko's children I even saw Mr. Bosanko pat her on the bum sometimes."

"Joan, let me assure you that behind closed doors your father has always paid proper attention to your mother's bum. And that is all you need to know about that, young lady!"


	4. Chapter 4

**REMEMBRANCE CHAPTER FOUR by Chapin**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six**

** Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input.**

** "**Now that's weird. A shop with dead rats in the window."

We were walking back to our hotel. It was such a pristine day and the walk would do us good, though it turned out to be more of a trek than we anticipated. For awhile we looked in shop windows and watched the Parisians enjoying their week-end. Somewhere along the route my mind began to wander again. All of a sudden there was a store with rats hanging in the display window. Seeing that brought me back to the present. The sign over the door said _Julien Aurouze & Co., Destruction des Animaux Nuisibles._ "Mum, it's a pest exterminator. The sign reads 'The Destruction of Unwanted Animals.'" If it had been James with me, the rats would have drawn him through the door. For Joan and me, it was soon far behind us - as was my paying attention to Joan's going-on about French fashion.

The conversation in the cafe had opened the gates of memory.

I vividly remember awakening in the hospital following my brain surgery. Recalling the terrible night and my resolve to not go away. I wondered in the light of day if I could carry through with it. Martin, with uncertain eyes on me, spoke first.

"Louisa. How are you feeling?"

"I think I'm OK Martin. I feel a bit woozy but not too bad. Can I go home today?"

"Yes, you should be able to. If you would like to go back to the surgery I can stay out at the farm or in a hotel. I do hope you will reconsider your resolve to go to Spain. I told you once I could not bear to be without you. Louisa, that is more true now than ever."

"Oh Martin I hear your words, but do you realize I feel rejected. It really hurts my soul. I can't stand it. Do you remember the day I brought our breakfast to your office so we could be together? Do you? You handed me the tray and sent me away. I cried until I was physically ill."

It troubled me greatly to cause the pain I saw on Martin's face, but this was not a time to mince words. I knew, and Martin had to know this was life and death for us. We were at a breaking point and I had to know what had brought on his isolation since our wedding.

"Martin, I'm not sure I make you happy. Am I really good for you? Something is wrong, terribly wrong. I mean wrong with you Martin. You are completely self-absorbed. You will not talk with me about it. What are you keeping from me? Are you seriously ill? I fear I am responsible for your haemophobia. I cannot take more of the way it has been. Can you see that? Do you even know what I am talking about? Surely you cannot feel good about the past few weeks. Martin. _Martin_!"

"Louisa, after you left in the taxi I was so disoriented I could not even deal with patients. I actually gave a patient the wrong medication. In desperation I drove to the farm and talked with Aunt Ruth. I am terribly frightened Louisa. I must make changes. When you were falling asleep with the anesthetic I told you I need you to help me learn. Please Louisa. I do love you and I want to be with you and James."

I made a mental note to talk with Ruth. Perhaps she could help me understand - not just Martin but understand myself. I firmly told Martin, "Thank you Martin, but I have to know if you are willing to tell me what is wrong. Will you tell me what Ruth told you? Once you told me, 'I don't really talk.' That won't work anymore. You have to really talk!"

Suddenly, I heard Joan's voice.

"Mum, you're a million miles away. You have hardly said a word since we left the cafe. I've really upset you, haven't I?"

"No Joan. I'm not upset, but our conversation triggered memories. Not all of them are pleasant, but they have a very good ending and you are much a part of that beautiful ending Sweetheart. We have a bit of time so lets bathe and lie in a bit before we go out."

The walk from Montemartre was longer than we anticipated so thus a bit tiring.  
>Arriving back at Novotel Les Halles we did lie down for awhile. Thankfully it was was three hours before Monsieur Llompart was to pick us up. Drifting into a nice nap I recalled the continuing conversation that I had with Martin when we left the hospital.<p>

In hospital Martin had left his emotional door ajar and knowing how quickly it could close I decided to push him a bit.

"What did Ruth tell you Martin?"

"Well, she had several comments Louisa."

"Fine. _One_, Martin. Tell me one thing that she told you."

I knew this would not be easy and we were not going to resolve much this afternoon but endearing comments had to be concretized into clear thoughts and words that really would help us. In uni when someone looked as uncomfortable as Martin we used to say they were sweating like a pregnant nun. But the crack in his armour was still there. "One thought Martin. Just one. What did Ruth tell you?"

Finally he spoke.

"She told me I should surely know that the physical symptoms I have exhibited recently are not a medical issue. She believes they flow from my mind and emotions."

I had to push him. "Good Martin. Now, do you believe your aunt?"

"She said if I wasn't willing to change I should - well she actually said, "...if you're not willing to do that, then leave the poor girl alone."

"Martin, I am not a poor girl and I do not want to be left alone, but as I told you continuing as we have been will destroy us. I simply cannot take it. I just can't" My eyes were welling with tears as I said this.

"Aunt Ruth does not believe we can solve our problems by ourselves."

I thought to myself that should be obvious to a blind pensioner. "And..."

"She is willing to suggest a therapist who could assist me."

It struck me to tell Martin this was not just his issue to solve. His isolating himself in working this out would just be more of the same, leaving me out of the equation. I was glad to know he would consider counseling.

"Not just you. Me. Us. We must work on this together. Surely you know I do not bring a blank page to our relationship. I do not know where this will lead but if you take Ruth's suggestion, will you include me? I promised to stick by you for better and worse, and Martin, it has to get better."

"Louisa, I must repeat what I said, I need your help. I hear what you are saying. I am trying to make sense of it. I will promise to give our marriage and life together paramount attention."

"Alright, my husband. I miss our son and I am weary of speaking of this now. I know you must be. You are not going to the farm! Take me home."

We were crossing the moor and slowed for a turn. I asked Martin to stop the car. He did and asked what was wrong, thinking I was feeling ill, perhaps something from the surgery. I looked at his beautiful eyes and placed my hand behind his neck, assuring him I was fine. I just stared into his eyes and pulled him to me into a deep and tender kiss. I allowed my lips to communicate the feelings of my heart and my thankfulness for his telling me what he did. He responded in kind and it was a mutual communication of acceptance and peace. That depth of feeling carried us to our son and to our home and allowed us an evening together that I hoped so much would be the first of many like it.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or** producers.

**Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six**

**Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input.**

**CHAPTER**** FIVE**

"I actually gave a patient the wrong medication."

It had been a few days since our return home from hospital. Martin was being very cautious with me. He did not even want me to lift James for a few more days. I knew he was truly caring for me and I tried to keep the belligerence binned and do what he asked. He was being cautious, too, in trying not to offend. We both knew the road before us was clouded with uncertainty and I suppose we were both walking on "pins and needles" as they say.

I was lying in bed having returned after breakfast and getting James Henry down for a nap. Martin was busy with patients and rather than sleeping, my eyes were carefully scanning the room as I tried to sort things in my mind. I very successfully noted every small crack in the plaster and the thread patterns on the quilt. But when it came to sorting things the vision blurred considerably. Martin had told me on the trip home from hospital that after I left in the taxi he became so confused he gave a patient the wrong medication. Then I recall he told me he abandoned Morwenna and patients and drove to the farm to talk with Ruth. At that point one resolve did become as clear as the cracks on the ceiling. I had to speak with Ruth.

My eyes wandered to the blue sky outside and two seagulls floating on the wind as I slipped into a restful sleep.

Ruth Ellingham was not as demonstrative as her sister, and there were no casseroles from that quarter. But she left no doubt that she was a caring and loving person, despite the Ellingham facade. She had really taken to James. She came every day to check on us so I had asked her if we could visit a bit after James went down for his afternoon nap. Martin would be busy with patients and that would give us time and privacy.

It was Tuesday and finally the stars aligned so Ruth and I could visit. It was a comfort that there was one in whom I could confide; someone who truly understood. Given that, it was a most relaxed atmosphere. So with a pot of wonderful Yorkshire Red on the table, we talked.

I told Ruth of Martin's and my conversation on the way back from Truro. With that I jumped in to the thick of it.

"Ruth, I believe Martin and I both want to make our marriage work, but making that happen is a different kettle of fish." My mind had an image of a ship frozen in ice.

Lip in mouth I suddenly was searching for what to say. Why? After all, here was the person I hoped could help free our ship. "I just do not know where else to turn. Please tell me why Martin seems so distant since our wedding. He asked me to help him change. How can I help him if I don't know what is going on? I feel like a child at the board doing maths asked to solve an equation. The only problem is that on the board is a problem with most of the facts missing, just a few numbers and symbols. So much is at stake Ruth. Can you give me the missing facts?" I wondered if my face showed the turmoil I was feeling in my gut.

Ruth took a drink of her tea, set the cup on the table and put her hands over her face. I wondered what that was about. She looked at me very directly and said, "Oh my, Louisa. This is not easy for me. I care deeply for you and Martin. I hope you are not expecting me to tell you what must come from him.

"I love my nephew, and you must know what he told me was not unknown to me. It would have been worthless had I brought it up to him. We _are_ Ellinghams, Louisa. Last week it was a fearful little boy who came to me with tears in his eyes. He wants help Louisa but he is fearful he is destined for disappointment. And in my opinion, his fear is not unfounded. You cannot imagine what he has been through."

"Oh, Ruth what am I to do? You know how hard it is for him to talk! I must know why he is isolating himself from me emotionally. I even told him that he seems to be rejecting me."

"Well there you are. I believe that Martin feels he does not deserve you. I know that sounds absurd, but he has lost so much in life, or never had it, that he feels even if something good comes, it will go away. His greatest fear, Louisa, is that he will lose you and James. Losing the ability to do surgery pales in significance to this, believe me. And he is pushing you away. His inner conflict is so great he is physically ill."

"Oh bloody hell Ruth and what do I do? I fulfill his fear by fleeing to my mother in Spain. I love him so much." A sip of tea did nothing to calm my anxiety. "How could I be so stupid? I am determined but I feel so helpless."

Ruth looked very strained and I waited for her answer. "Louisa it will take that and more; possibly more patience and forbearance than you think you have. But I hope you do know the value of the effort. You are an extraordinary person Louisa and you know how special Martin is. You know some of his home background, but I doubt you know all of the hurt and abuse he suffered at the hands of others. Do you know how rare it is for someone to recover from that in a way that allows them to actually contribute to society? I have worked with hundreds who have had to be imprisoned to protect themselves and others. Many of them endured far less than Martin endured as a child. You must understand that the only way he could survive was to build a an impregnable wall around himself. Do you realize the risk he takes in allowing that wall to fall? You are one of three people who has ever glimpsed behind that fortress? He trusts you Louisa.

"Now, I have assured Martin that he cannot resolve all of this by himself. I have recommended a very good therapist to him who hopefully can assist him in getting beyond this impasse."

I thought that I probably did not realize the full implications of what Ruth was telling me. I pushed with her that I did not think Martin should isolate himself in his healing. "Ruth it seems that I should be involved to some extent in this counseling. I have issues that obviously need to be resolved." I hoped my honesty would help Ruth be more open with me.

And there was Ruth's trademark crooked smile. "Yes, of course Louisa. Like Martin you have hidden your demons behind a very successful career and I do not know you like I know him. I imagine, like our Martin you have pushed the football under the water a long way."

Hiding my demons? What demons? Football in the water? "Ruth, what in the world are you talking about?"

"Push a football underwater Louisa. Keep pushing. The deeper you push it, the higher it will fly when you release it. You have witnessed this with Martin, haven't you? Now, are you able to see it in yourself? Surely you are not so naive as to think you have missed this with your issues of abandonment, mistrust and insecurity.  
>Yes, yes, <em>YES<em> Louisa, you must be involved in this resolution."

Maybe it was my pride, but I had not thought my issues as severe as Martin's.  
>Ruth implied that I had a good bit of healing to undergo. Well, I asked for her help and it would be very stupid to ignore her.<p>

Ruth continued, "But you realize this will be a long process and the crux of it is Martin being willing to truly share who he is with you. And you, of course, must be willing to share your life's journey with him. It may be that your doing that first will help him open up to you. This will be by fits and starts and progress will be slow, but it can happen because you do love each other. Martin asked for your help. Do you realize how amazing that is?"

"Ruth, I just want to be happy."

"Well, sorry Louisa, but in the words of Inigo Montoya, 'Get used to disappointment.' Happiness is not a destination. So many make the mistake of thinking they will be happy when they get the perfect job or find the perfect partner.  
>Tell me dear, have you not shared any happy moments with Martin.?"<p>

My mind went to the few times when we had been alone with no interruptions and no prompts for medical interpretation. I remembered the wonderful day Martin asked me to marry him and that same night when our sweet son entered our lives.  
>Yes, that night and the days following I was very happy. "Oh, yes Ruth! We have had our happy times!"<p>

"And did they last, Louisa? Were you in a state of ongoing happiness?"

"Well, no, of course not. You know all of our ups and downs."

"Well alright. Do you see? Happiness comes and goes. I believe if you think of it that way, you will be happy more often. Seek happiness for Martin. Seek to be content with him in working through all this mess."

It was such a help to listen to this wise woman. She had stopped and become very introspective. In fact the Ellingham persona did not seem very intact. She was staring out the window and seemed to have forgotten that I was even in the room.

"Ruth! Ruth, what is wrong? You seem troubled."

"Oh nothing really. I'm alright Louisa."

"Ruth, come on. You are family. And that is an easy stoic Elllingham answer. I see pain in your eyes." It seemed to me our whole conversation was affected by emotions surfacing in Ruth's mind.

"Louisa, people think that psychiatrists have it all together. They come to us for answers for their problems. If you want advice Louisa, ask Bert or Mrs. Poustie or any of your friends or colleagues. We shrinks don't have answers, and would not give them if we did. If we are true to our calling we guide discovery. But I digress. We are human Louisa with all of the issues of the rest of the population. Did you know psychiatrists have a higher rate of suicide than other medical specialities? The simple truth Lousia, and I am so thankful we are family, the simple truth is that being with you today is causing me to relive a time in my life when I had many moments of happiness. I was moving toward contentment and it gradually collapsed and disappeared."

"Oh, Ruth. What happened? I am so sorry to have resurrected all of this in your heart. What in the world happened?"

Ruth's lips trembled and I swear I saw tears in her eyes.

"_Hamish_ Louisa, _Hamish happened!"_


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six**

**Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input.**

**CHAPTER** **SIX**

After her outburst, Ruth and I sat in silence for what seemed like an an eternity. She could not speak as she was weeping silently. Her shoulders shook as she cried. In shock I could not say a word and I realize now, would not; out of respect; perhaps out of empathy. I had taken her hand which squeezed mine forcefully.

Finally in a very quiet voice she said, "I had a chance for life with someone I loved, Louisa. I made choices that destroyed that chance. I do not want that to happen to you and Martin. Maybe it won't work, but if you fail to give it the effort it deserves you will regret it forever. I am sorry for this Louisa. Today is about your issues and not about my past."

"Oh no, Ruth. I just regret that this has brought up bad memories for you."

"In many ways, Louisa, they are good memories. They simply ended badly. I simply put my education and career ahead of what could have been a lifetime with a person I loved very much. Hamish was my soulmate. I was very intellectual and he was a free spirit. He was an artist and became a teacher of sculpture at Cambridge."

Now I had become curious and James Henry was cooperating so I had to know more. "But Ruth, I don't understand. A teacher and a physician. That _can _work, can't it?"

"Well, of course it can Louisa, but not when the teacher is studying in Scotland and the physician is at Kings College. You would not understand loyalty to family Louisa. I foolishly followed my father's insistence where I would study. Hamish and I drifted and then he met Wei Ting. Ironically Louisa, she was an obstetrician. They married and had three daughters. I have only wished him every happiness.

"But no more about that Louisa! Are you listening to me because I have something I want to you hear and I have _never _been more serious in my life."

I was expecting some great psychological insight; some great wisdom from this psychiatric sage. "Of course Ruth. What?"

"There is something you must do immediately. You must nail your foot to the floor. No solo trips to Spain in your future!"

Both of us laughed. But we both knew it was not really a flippant comment. Ruth wanted Martin and me to give our marriage every chance to be a lifetime event. And now because of her kind candidness I understood why.

"Oh Ruth, thank you. You have no idea what it means for you to have come today. I love you Ruth and I thank you for your kindness and frankness. As I grew up here in Portwen, your sister Joan was like a mother to me. Losing her was an indescribable sadness. Seems like every Ellingham I have met has been a needed gift."

Ruth chuckled and said, "Well, Louisa I could introduce you to some relatives that would negate that statement. But I do thank you for it and I appreciate you including me in your family. I love James Henry so much."

"Well Ruth, by their own actions James' biological grandmothers have abdicated, haven't they? _Granny Ruth_! I quite like the sound of that. Speaking of gifts. Your being his grandmother is a true gift to James. What do you think?"

As I watched her lovely face, it was much more peaceful and perhaps tinged with a bit of joy. Then her beautiful eyes began to tear up again. I am afraid I could but respond in kind and the water flowing over the dam gave way and the dam broke. We embraced each other and just bawled. I am so glad Martin wasn't around to speak of female hormones. We gradually settled and looked again at each other.

Ruth finally spoke. "Oh my, Louisa. Nothing like that to clear the sinuses."

At that point James began to awaken. I told Ruth she should go and bring him.  
>She returned with my son snuggled into her neck, not quite awake yet. She sat back down and rubbed his back. He actually fell back asleep.<p>

Looking at me again Ruth quietly said, "Louisa, you asked me what you should do. In answering that, may I ask you some questions?"

"Of course. I welcome anything from you."

"When Martin is not aware you are watching, what is he like with James Henry?

"He is so tender and gentle. I catch him just staring at him in wonder. One night I came home to find him reading to him from the British Medical Journal of all things. James had the biggest smile on his face."

"Has Martin ever shown his vulnerable side with you? Have you ever seen his tears?"

"Yes, Ruth, actually I have seen him weep almost without control. I didn't know how to console him."

"Do you trust him?"

"Totally."

"Do you respect him?"

"Ruth when you know this man how could you not respect him? I have never met anyone with a stronger duty of care."

"What if Martin is not as demonstratively romantic as you might wish or as a model husband you have held in your dreams?"

"I will never again look for the perfect man. Hard to do when you see your own imperfections, isn't it? Perhaps Martin is perfect for me. I truly hope so. Ruth I have seen him be tender and romantic. Only moments of course, but I was warmed by those moments."

"You have to decide Louisa, but I believe you have your answer."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six**

**Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input.**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Martin, I think I may be pregnant!"

I was sitting in our living room awaiting a message from Louisa that she and Joan had returned to their hotel. I usually would have been in bed and was sleepy but I wanted to know they were safe for the night. For much of my life I preferred solitude. Sartre's "Hell is other people," made sense to me. But now, years down the road, I hated being alone. In no way do I regret Louisa and Joan making this trip together, but their absence makes me feel empty. Of course Joan is away in her studies and James is married now. That somehow makes him more distant, even though he and Emily are not that far away. They are creating their own directions in life.

I had been reading the most recent BMJ but frankly had lost interest. "Children living near fast food outlets in England are more likely to be overweight, study shows." What peabrain genius figured that out? I had laid my head back. Being somewhere between awake and asleep my mind drifted to our daughter, actually the day we learned she was on the way into our lives.

The call from Louisa on that Wednesday lunch break registered a 6.5 on my Richter scale. A massive earthquake is the only way I can describe how the news hit me.

"Why Louisa? If your period is a bit late, there could be any number of reasons - a thyroid issue, or being distraught or excessive exercise. We could run some tests."

"Martin, do you have a pregnancy test there?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Good, I will be there before your patients return. That is the only test I want today."

And in an instant that cool autumn day we were looking at two distinct red lines in the window of the test wand, clear evidence that human chorionic gonadotropin was being secreted by a fertilized egg. What we felt at that moment can only be compared to a seismic tremor, a major one. We had found an even keel in our relationship and our family. Our son James Henry was getting close to four and was a delight to us. Given our ages we had decided that we would be grateful for the gift of James to us and not have any more children.

"Martin, how? I have an IUD. What will we do? Martin, _Martin_, say something!"

"Well Louisa if you are pregnant, and the test seldom lies, I believe we can speak in the past tense. You _had _an IUD."

I do not know how we got through that afternoon. That night was one of uncertainty and fear and wondering what the future would be. In the back of our minds was our ages and the possible risks of a pregnancy at this point in our lives. Ultimately the weight of emotion caused Louisa's tears to flow and I tried to hold her and assure her, but to no calming effect.

"Pregnant Martin. _Pregnant!_ Another baby. When I was younger I thought I wanted a lot of children, but I have long since binned that idea. What will we do?"

My mind was reeling but I had to maintain my composure. No need for both of us to be expressing our emotions right now. Ever the pragmatist I moved to logic. "Alright Louisa. There are two things that must be done. Tomorrow I will call Charles Stewart and make you an appointment. We will confirm if this is so and we will then do everything necessary to insure your well being and that of the baby."

"Just like that Martin. Call the doctor, make an appointment, have a baby. It sounds like you're telling someone to take a paracetomal or apply a plaster. I know you too well. Your mind has got to be a jumble of conflicting thoughts. Come on now. I can't stand not knowing how you really feel."

"Alright Louisa. You're right of course. This is a shock. Not something we expected or could predict. We were taking appropriate precautions. But I say that the most important thing to do is deal with the situation and do what needs to be done. I do not know when our emotions will catch up with that. I said there were two things that must be done immediately. I will call the doctor, but I believe you should call Natalie. We do not want to tell another soul of this, but it may be helpful if you talk with her."

Natalie was the wife of Luk Jacobs who was the vicar at our local parish for some seven years. They had since moved to a church in Connecticut so that their daughter could be closer to grandparents. Louisa had told me more than once that Natalie was the best friend she had ever had. Even with an ocean between them they still talked almost weekly. Their daughter, Emily, was the same age as James and Louisa had told me some months ago that Natalie and Luk were expecting another child.

I pushed Louisa to call Natalie. "The house is quiet. James is sleeping. Go sit in your quiet place and give her a call. Oh, and tell her to give Luk my regards." Surprisingly, and I suppose ironically, Luk and I had developed an affinity for each other during his time here in Portwenn.

It was after ten o'clock when Louisa came to the sitting room where I had gone to wait for her. It gave me time to think on all this too. Louisa appeared and looked visibly more peaceful. She came over to me and sat on my lap, put her arms around me and kissed me.

"I love you Martin. Thank you for urging me to call Natalie. We will be alright, won't we?"

"Of course we will Louisa."

"Natalie was over the top about my being pregnant. With her excitement it was hard to not have a bit of it creep into my heart. She really tried to get me to be at peace about it and allow the reality to settle in without going over the next nine months - or nine years - in my mind tonight. And she said we must take a picture of the baby at the birth as the child will likely be waving an IUD."

"Well, that's not possible. You likely passed it without ... Oh, wait. A joke, right? Always slow on the uptake, Louisa."

With another kiss she said, "Martin I would not want you any other way. Do you think you can deal with a pregnant woman for nine months?"

"Well, Louisa, do you think you can deal with the husband of a pregnant woman for nine months? I want to monitor you closely and care for you. I believe patience may be required all around. And while you were on the phone I was thinking about James. We must be certain he is included and nurtured through all of this."

I think we both knew that it would not be James who would have difficulty adjusting to the idea of a new brother or sister. No, it would be his parents who would have to get this settled in their minds. If we had been 20 years younger we might have been excited as young couples are wont to be. But at 41 and 48 excitement would not have been the operative word. How could we have known that James and Joan were the best "mistakes" we ever made? Life without them would be unimaginable! Of course I'll not forget the words of the Portwenn fisherman Joe Nordquist. They had eight children and he told me once, "Mate, I wouldn't take a million quid for any of 'em, but I wouldn't give a tuppence for another 'n."

"Oh yes, Martin," Louisa said. "Believe me, James will be in the middle of it. Just prepare yourself for the questions. We do have a very inquisitive little boy."

Louisa leaned on me and I put my arm around her. She looked up at me and said, "Thank you, Martin."

"What for Louisa?"

"Just thank you." And she cuddled closer as I held her even more tightly.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT REMEMBRANCE**

** The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers. **

**Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input. Martin continues reflecting on his daughter's birth. **

**CHAPTER EIGHT **

"Martin, as long as you are going to the market I am fancying some kippers. Oh and please get me a box of McVities."

_"LOUISA!"_

The first trimester of Louisa's pregnancy had gone quite well. She had very few problems with morning sickness and Mr. Smith was very pleased with her well being and the baby's development. More importantly Louisa was very pleased with him and his manner. Such a contrast to her prenatal experience with James. I hate that even came to mind. We both were so regretful of all the misunderstanding that drove our isolation from each other. I know I was overprotective this time, but it was so good to be a part of it all. So I remember that afternoon after the surgery closed. I was going to pick up food for supper. Actually Louisa was taking very good care of herself. My natural response to her request was an outburst, but her simple "Please Martin" had me returning with salt-ladened fish and chocolate biscuits.

Well into the second trimester we were sitting on the sofa with Louisa's feet in my lap. She was tired more frequently and my rubbing her feet had become a nightly occurrence. Feet are not the most beautiful part of one's anatomy, but when they are attached to one you love, to explore their soft geography is very nice. As I gently ran my thumbs the length of Louisa's instep she suddenly said,

"Martin, how in the world do you do that? It was the same with James. When I couldn't settle him, you would take him and he was instantly quiet."

"Louisa," I responded, "what in the world are you talking about? James is asleep." "

"Sure Martin but this little girl is not. She was kicking up a storm and as soon as you are massaging my feet she settles right down. Just like that! How do you do you do it?"

"Well, Louisa, we know I am very good at offending adults. Maybe putting babies to sleep is my calling. Who could have predicted that?"

When we did the 20 week ultrasound we both wanted to know the gender of our child and we learned that we were to have a daughter. A daughter! I am adjusting to being a father to a very active boy, but a daughter. What was this going to be like? Well I supposed I had a few months to adjust to the idea, and 18 or so years to figure it out.

We were tired that night, having been gone all day to Truro. It didn't help that I had only 3 hours sleep the night before due to Mrs. Alwine having a respiratory emergency. James slept all the way home and we actually put him to bed, having not even eaten supper. Thankfully we had soup from Sunday's dinner that we could heat quickly. Point being, we fell into bed early.

As I began to drift into sleep, Louisa, who was lying very close quietly said, "No question about the name of this new wee one, is there Martin?"

"No Louisa, no question. She will be our Joan. I think Auntie Joan would be chuffed to bits."

It was a pleasant thought, but really a bitter-sweet moment as Louisa and I still mourned the death of our dear Auntie Joan.

I was not very much a participant in the first pregnancy, but Auntie Joan thankfully was involved. She had been more a mother to both Louisa and me than either of our own mothers had been growing up. Upon Louisa's return from London it was natural for her to jump to her care. She brought good food and took her to Truro for her prenatal visits. When some townsfolk made snippy comments she helped her shed the hurt and isolation. In truth she helped us both. It was a time of confusion and inner conflict for me, and Joan attempted to help me come to my senses. Her words did not fall on deaf ears, though neither she nor I realized it at the time.

When Joan had died so suddenly after James' birth it was devastating to both Louisa and myself. It was difficult for me to show it, but to this day I feel her absence.

If it had not been for William and Mary Shawcross I do not know how I could have gotten through that horrible time. William was the undertaker who assisted with Joan's arrangements and burial.

I found out later that Mary had been very helpful to Louisa in advising her how to deal with a grieving, isolated and wounded man. Looking back I know I was quite horrible and insensitive. I was thinking only of myself really, but what else could I do? How in the world could I continue without Joan? This had to be what it feels like to lose one's mother.

Now and then I do visit Joan's grave in the churchyard. This is something I could not even have conceived myself doing in the past. "Dust to dust," as they say. If I end up in front of her grave I think I am simply trying to hear the words she would tell me. I never hear her speak, but I always feel better for having been there.

After the funeral and after the gathering that we had at Joan's farm, Louisa and I were driving back into town. I told her I wanted to stop briefly at the Shawcross's. She was fine with that although it was close to her needing to feed James.

I knocked on the door and Mary answered. "Hello Martin, please come in. Wouldn't Louisa like to get out of the car?"

"No, James is asleep and I just need a moment with William. Is he available?"

"Yes of course, Martin. Do sit down and I'll call him. Let me bring some tea."

"No, thank you. I can't stay. We need to get James home."

"Hello Martin." William had entered and shook my hand. "I know you must be tired. I know this is a terrible time for you. I just hope the service was alright and that we were able to be of some help."

"William, that is why I have come. I wanted to thank you for all you did. Your help has been of inestimable value."

"Well Martin, I was just doing my job."

_Just doing his job_. It was often the thing I told people if they thanked me. When one does one's work well, no extra appreciation is called for. Life demands that we do our job. But it seemed as if William, and Mary I found out later, was doing more than his job. I remember the night he asked me to come over to go over some details of the funeral. I realize now that his reason was simply to allow me to actually be in the room with Joan's body for several hours with hope that I could find some closure. He left on some lame excuse and I did not realize it but I was there thinking, even talking for over four hours, and not without some tears.

"Just doing my job. And by the way, perhaps you could drop by some evening. I could fancy a game of chess with you."

"Yes, William, we will see about that. Thank you."

It is quite interesting but William and I do play chess now and then. Some times Louisa and James come along and she and Mary visit while we play. Several times they have cared for James, allowing Louisa and me to have a break from Portwenn for an evening or for a week-end. They raised seven children so were well qualified to take care of our one little boy. James never balked when we left him with William and Mary.

As I returned to the car Louisa asked me why I needed to stop. I explained that I simply wanted to thank William for all his assistance.

"What did he say, Martin."

"Well, he said 'Just doing my job.'"

**I want to thank the following for their inestimable encouragement and help: GriffinStar, robspace54, reallybodmin, Snowsie2011, Boots1980 and Zarie Chuppins (aka my wife Suzie). You'll find Zarie in "An Interesting Man" by Portwenn Hydra.**


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE REMEMBRANCE

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

** Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input. Martin continues reflecting on his daughter's birth. **

**CHAPTER NINE**

_"AAAIIIEEE!_ Martin, this is not false labor!"

Louisa had been having what we thought was false labor for two days. It would come and go and had no progression to it. She stayed in touch with Mr. Smith. Finally he decided that in order for her to get some rest she should take a Valium which would settle down the false labor. She had no sleep in two days and was beyond grateful when things settled down and was able to fall into a deep sleep.

I was exhausted too, having had a very busy surgery that day and two home visits

James was still awake as it was only eight o'clock. We had stories and I had hoped he would be sleepy, but no luck there. He was full of questions.

"Can I go to the hospital with you and Mummy to see the baby?"

"No, James. I have told you you will get to spend the night with Aunt Morwenna and during the day you can go visit the farm with Uncle Al."

"When will you go to the hospital?"

"Probably in a few days, James, when the baby decides it it time to be born."

"Dad, am I really going to have a sister?"

"Yes, son, you will soon have a sister. She will need you to help care for her. Will you help Mummy?"

"Yes, I will, but I don't want to see poopy nappies." "Alright James. It is time for you to go to sleep. I'll leave your night light on."

With that I kissed his forehead and told him, "You are a good boy, James." It is something I told my son every night when I tucked him in. I wanted my children to know they were loved and valued for themselves and nothing else. One night when I was leaving the room James said, "Dad, you are good too." Lying in bed later I wondered to myself if I believed it like I wanted him to believe it

Before going to bed I checked the doors. Looking out, it was a dark night and Portwenn was silent and asleep. Louisa had been wakeful for two nights with what appeared to be Braxton Hicks contractions. I did not turn on the light but the illumination from the street lamp through the window revealed Louisa with a look of peace as she slept. Once in bed, I placed my hand gently on her abdomen. It felt hard to the touch but not wanting to awaken her I did not probe further. Hopefully all was well. It did not take long for me to fall into a very sound sleep.

"AAAEEEIIIIIII!"

Louisa's scream had me sitting bolt upright and on my feet in an instant.

"THIS IS NOT FALSE LABOR MARTIN! THIS BABY WANTS OUT NOW!"

I hardly recall dressing. There was not time to wait for Morwenna so I called Mrs. Northcott who could be here until Morwenna arrived. Thankfully James stayed asleep. I put a long coat around Louisa and placed her in the back seat leaning on four pillows and secured with the seat belt.

We were finally on the way. I quickly called and alerted Charles Stewart. Louisa's pains were less than five minutes apart which was not good. She was in active labor and possibly in transition. It was 3:37 and pitch black. Thankfully the road was dry. At best we would be 40 more minutes. The call to use the Valium was one I agreed with. After all, the due date was still two weeks away. It didn't even seem the baby had dropped that much. Obviously she had. And those two days of off-and-on labor pains were a gentle harbinger of bigger things to come. I realized the Valium had masked onset of labor through the night so when Louisa awakened in pain the child was definitely knocking at the door.

"Martin!" Louisa's voice was strained and frightened. "Will we get to the hospital? I do not want to deliver this baby in a car."

"Louisa," I said as calmly as I could muster, "if I have anything to do with it we will get to hospital. It is critical that you try to relax and do not push. Try not to push."

"Martin, that is bloody easy for you to say. You do not have an elephant trying to push itself out of your body. Aaaeeeii - Ohhhhh - Martin, UHHHHHHHH!"

"I must attend to getting us safely to Truro. Please take deep breaths. I know it is hard, but do not push!"

If I could get to the A39 I could drive faster, but before that hurrying could mean we might not arrive at all. And of course of all things as I rounded a corner there were hay bales lying in the road. Some bloke had lost some of his load and just moved on. No one had notified the police. I got out and quickly started shifting enough bales to one side so we could pass. Not expecting company I nearly peed my pants when a very loud moooooo resounded close on my left. I looked and there were four bovines taking advantage of the farmer's loss. Immediately following was a very loud cry from the car. This would carry the appropriate humor later, but not now. I was quite frightened at the hold-up. With some six or seven bales moved I could get by and we were on our way.

"Martin, where did you go? Why did we stop?AHHHHH! MY GOD MARTIN, I DON'T WANT TO HAVE THIS BABY IN THE CAR. AND DON'T TELL ME THERE'S A BLOODY PUB AHEAD!"

"The road was blocked. I'm sorry. The A39 is just ahead. No one in the round-abouts at this hour."

"Don't talk Martin, just drive. Just hurry! These pains are close and hard."

We were moving again and evidently between contractions because Louisa said, "Martin, what is that terrible smell. I am going to be sick."

Holy Crap! I had stepped in fresh manure moving the damn hay. I had to stop the car and clean my shoes in the roadside grass. Then I wiped the floor with my handkerchief, tossed it and finally got us moving again.

Since asking would likely cause it, I did not even ask what else might happen.

I had stayed in touch with the doctor throughout the journey. Thus when we arrived at the A & E there was a cadre of scrubbed and masked people prepared for us. Louisa was on the trolley as we moved quickly down the hall. She was holding my hand in a vice-grip as another hard contraction came on her. She and this baby were oblivious to everything but this violent dance of creation.

"Dr. Ellingham, you know the routine. Scrubs are in there." I had to pull away and change quickly.

As I entered the theatre the doctor was laying our new-born on Louisa's chest. That was quick, I thought to myself.

"Dr. Ellingham," Charles addressed me, "I do not know why you got me out of bed. This good lady took care of things without my help. Not too many trolley births, you know. Congratulations, Martin. All seems fine. Would you like to cut the cord.?"

And it seemed the Ellingham women were to keep this night filled with shrieking. Our little girl had lungs to match her mum, which caused me to recall our son's lusty cries upon his birth at the Coach and Four maternity pub.

Once in the room, I was holding the baby while Louisa slept. I counted fingers and toes and simply stared at this tiny infant. Our daughter. I deduced that that final contraction was a final push by Louisa to bring this little one into the world. Louisa stirred and opened her eyes. She gave me a tired and beautiful smile. I took our daughter to her.

"Well, you got us to the hospital, Martin. We were cutting it a bit close, huh? There was no holding back on that trolley. So, what do you think, daddy? What do you think of our little girl?"

"Isn't she beautiful Louisa?"

"I don't know Martin. Do you think her head is a bit misshapen?"

That took me aback, and then I saw her devilish smirk and the penny dropped.

"Louisa, you are an evil woman."

"Ah, yes Martin but an evil woman who loves you. We have a new baby girl and she is beyond beautiful."

"And Martin, you are in hospital booties. Where are your shoes?"

"I had to leave them on the pavement outside. With any luck someone has binned them in the rubbish."

oooooooooooOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo

I heard my phone message signal. I looked at the screen and read, "We are back at the hotel. Very nice evening. We will talk tomorrow my love."

Having just returned from a four day conference in Plymouth I was exhausted. Glad to know Louisa and Joan were safely back to their hotel in Paris. I went to bed. Just before sleeping I reached over...and switched pillows


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN REMEMBRANCE**

** The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

** Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input.**

** It is time for Louisa to remember Joan's birth.**

** CHAPTER TEN **

"Mr. Large do you have a baby in your tummy?"

I awakened in the gray light of dawn. With our late night I did not wish to be awake. I lay in our hotel room, just inches from the serene face of my daughter as she slept. How could I have ever wished that she was not a part of me?

It was the school lunch hour and I was looking in my bottom desk drawer for some peanuts that I knew I had put there. My eye caught an unopened box of Tampax. The peanuts were behind the tampons. "Hmmmm," I suddenly wondered. "When was my last period?" It seemed like that box should have been opened and used before today. Thinking back I recalled it had been the week of the school talent program. Thinking it was no big deal, I checked my school calendar. _OK, big deal! Seven weeks ago._

I made sure there were no "ears" nearby, closed my door and called Martin. In less than an hour that November afternoon we were looking at the positive results on the wand from the pregnancy test. From the moment I looked at the calendar my emotions were in my stomach. My periods did not follow the lunar cycle. The moon follows my menstrual cycle. For all of Martin's reasons for my late period, I knew I was pregnant.

"No Martin! This just can't be. You told me an IUD is almost 100% effective. Our life is good with James Henry. This changes everything!" I felt the tears coming. "What are we going to do?"

Martin's face showed the shock I felt, but his words were absolutely clinical. In so many words he just said we would call the doctor and have a baby. Can you believe it? Call the doctor and have a baby!

In the cool light of reason, of course, that is what we would do. But desperation and not reason was reigning on my throne. I knew of course we would never terminate the pregnancy. Martin has always taken his Hippocratic Oath and respect for life seriously. His reading recently of Albert Schweitzer had confirmed those convictions. Few issues angered Martin more than a person who considered abortion a simple method of birth control.

When I met Martin his approach to life was simply "meat and potatoes." If you cannot touch it and define it, it is questionable. I supposed this is the reason he put down psychiatry and mental health treatment as psychobabble. His gradual respect for the good his Aunt Ruth did and his desperate need for counseling to resolve his own issues changed his rigidity. It is amazing that his perspective changed so much that he even encouraged James to consider psychiatry as his professional focus.

It was his friend Luk Jacobs who had him reading Albert Schweitzer. To use the word "friend of" and Martin in the same sentence is quite strange. But Luk, who was the vicar at the church in Portwenn for a time, somehow became someone Martin liked. He wanted Martin to read challenging books and they would discuss them. This has continued even with Luk in the States. So when Martin saw some of Dr. Schweitzer's books in a used book store, he bought them. He has been deeply drawn to Schweitzer's medical work and his Reverence for Life.

But back to Tuesday, November 21! Honestly, I do not know how we got through that day. It was a roller coaster of emotional outbursts: _How could this happen? We had decided. We have a good life now. Why me? We must have the fertility of rabbits. I do not want to be pregnant. I do not want to be fat and sick. Martin, I want you to say something._

How did we get through this? It was Martin! Although his emotions were as at cross-purposes as my own, his practical mind kicked in. In retrospect that was good, but at the time it seemed terribly insensitive. Martin had great respect for his colleague Charles Stewart who was an obstetrician at the Royal Cornwall Hospital. He wanted me to see him right away.

Then he said an amazing thing. For my often slow-to-catch-on husband, a truly amazing thing - he said I should call my friend Natalie Jacobs. We had become friends from the day she and her husband Luk had moved to Portwenn. Now we were more than friends. More like sisters. Although they had moved to America, we spoke by phone at least weekly. I think Martin knew our attempting to sort this out further would be futile. So I called Natalie.

"Louisa, what is wrong? Has there been a death? Are Martin and James alright?"

"Bwaaaaa Ahhhhhh. Oh Natalie. What will I do. I am preeegnaaant!"

"Louisa. Oh Louisa, that is the best news. You know I am three months along. We will do this together."

"Bwaaaaaah. No it is not the best news. Our life is good. This is a huge cock-up. We took every precaution. I have an IUD. This was not suppose to happen, Natalie!

"Louisa, I think you ought to speak in the past tense. You _had _an IUD."

"Bwaaaaaah Ahhhhh." I kept bawling.

"What? What now Louisa?"

"That is exactly what Martin said."

"Martin making a joke. There is hope for the world, Louisa. Look I know this doesn't fit life as you have planned it. Do you remember the words in the song, "Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans?"

I'll never know how our conversation was salvaged that night, but after over an hour on the phone I was far from resolved to having another child. Yet my friend would never be silly about something like this just to calm me down. Her excitement was a bit infectious and I had a sense of peace when we rang off.

I went to Martin and assured him with a hug and kiss that Natalie had settled my mind. He followed my lead and "sang me a lullaby" that allowed us both a very peaceful night.

My pregnancy went very well. I had a minimum of morning-sickness and other than a growing weariness mid-afternoon I began to enjoy the experience once I was accepting of our having another child. Martin was so kind and helpful - almost more than I could endure.

Again, enter Natalie: "Louisa, I do not want to hear one word of complaint out of you. Do you know how many women would like to be given the attention your husband is giving you?"

"But Natalie, he is my shadow. He monitors my sleep, my food; asks constantly how I am feeling."

"Have you so soon forgotten the pain of neglect and distance when you were expecting James? And you know in your heart that was mainly your fault."

"But Natalie, Martin..."

"No Louisa, we've gone over that before. Never mind the past. Open the door for Martin to be totally involved with this child! That is settled my dear friend. Now let's talk babies..."

I was over the moon that we were going to have a daughter. There was never any discussion about her name. Martin and I both knew she would carry the name and we hoped the legacy of Joan Norton, Martin's dear beloved aunt. Martin did drive me crazy at times with his playing mother hen, but he could be quite tender and emotional at times. This was most obvious when we retired with his head lying on my breast and his hand on the baby.

If the idea of a new sister was new to James Henry, dealing with a child asking about this new baby was new and carried great humor and land mines. When we told him the new baby was a girl he wondered if we couldn't just have a puppy. He wanted to know why Mummy was getting fat. We gave the common answer that it was because the baby is growing in her tummy. To our regret we didn't go just a bit deeper and use the word "womb" or "special place." Oh yes, to my great regret!

One day found James and me walking in town for some fresh air and exercise and we ran into Bert Large.

"Louisa, so nice to see you. And James Henry lad, how's my boy?"

"We're all fine Bert, thanks. How are you and Jenny?"

"Oh, just fine Louisa, Just fine. She's the best thing that ever happened to this old man."

"Mr. Bert, do you have a baby in your tummy?"

"What? What was that James?", I shockingly asked.

"You know Mummy. You are fat and a baby is in your tummy. Mr Large is fat so he must have a baby in his tummy."

My face was turning a bright red as I looked at a Bert Large laughing uproariously.

"Oh, Louisa, that boy made my day. You are a good one James. We won't soon forget this one."

I wanted to get away and did a quick leave taking. "Good to see you Bert. Give my love to Jenny."

"Sure Louisa. Sure. Regards to the Doc." He could hardly get the words out for laughing.

I was embarrassed to tears and wanted to get home. "James, how could you say something like that to Mr. Large? Mr. Large cannot have a baby." "But Mummy, you said..." And yes I had "said" and James had only worked it out logically. Back at home I thought about it and concluded that in the end no day is lost when you bring as much enjoyment to a person as James had given to Bert.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN REMEMBRANCE**

** The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

** Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input. **

**CHAPTER ELEVEN - AN INTERLUDE **

"Let's check _your _heart rate Martin."

I tried to take Natalie's advice and allow Martin to be as attentive as he wanted to be with me and the baby. At times attentiveness turned to what felt like smothering, but I tried to be patient. I really did. Outbursts were close to the surface, but I was quite proud of myself. I rarely let them break out.

Thing is, Martin thought he was being subtle but it was quite obvious. He would be holding my hand and I knew he was taking my pulse. He would hold my tummy as if to feel the baby. A bit later, here he would come with that doppler thingy to check the baby's heartbeat.

Food took us to another level altogether. He was really sweet to indulge me and bring my smoked herring and chocolate digestives. I knew he hated doing it but he did it and did not go into lecture mode. Of course the way he said, "Here are the things you asked for." was said in such a way as to not miss his feelings about the delivery of said items. Martin is a really good cook and we have good and nutritious meals. It is just that when I start growing gills I have to have some meat. I gave him the "beef is a good source of iron" pitch and he agreed to have beef at least once a week.

One night James Henry was settled and we were lying close to each other. It was sweet being close like that. We often held hands when we went to sleep and frankly I loved it. Martin is so fastidious in caring for himself. His hands are just an extension of his perfection. Whether rubbing my feet or caressing my back they are so soft and gentle. His hand held mine that night as we settled in to sleep. I felt his finger creep to my wrist. Oh, here we go again, checking my pulse. I remembered something I had always told my students. Turn a negative into a positive.

At this point I should point out a reality of pregnancy. Some women want nothing to do with love-making during that time. Erogenous zones are hands-off zones. Well I can assure you I am not in that category. During this pregnancy I have been quite frisky. With James' pregnancy I thought of myself as fat and clunky. Even in those days of non-communication Martin said, "Louisa, you are not fat. You are pregnant." Well I couldn't see the difference. But this time, while I could see this fat woman in the mirror, his comments and sincere admiration of my "pregnant beauty" as he called it overrode all. He loved me and really thought I was beautiful. How could that not melt a woman's heart...as well as other anatomical areas? Well, let me tell you, it did mine!

"Martin, perhaps it would be better if you checked for my heart rate _here_." With that I placed his hand under my gown onto my breast.

"Louisa, one cannot feel a heartbeat through adipose tissue."

There was a time when I would have taken his comment seriously because he was so clueless, but now it is not always clear. He knows I know that, and I know he may just be playing along. So I take it further.

"Well, the face is very sensitive. Perhaps if you place your _face _here you can feel a pulse." With that I pulled him to where his face was touching my other breast. He responded with a sweet nuzzle and I knew we were on the right track. Adipose tissue my foot!

"Let's check _your _heart rate Martin." With that I moved my hand south and told him, "Hmmm, what have we here? I detect a definite _"rise" _in your pulse. Oh my, I think you definitely have hardening of the arteries. This will have to be dealt with. I know Martin! You let me be the doctor and you will have to follow my prescription. I always wanted to play doctor with you."

I rolled Martin onto his back and moved to sit astride him. I leaned down and we kissed deeply. It was a wonderful long and delicious kiss. It was a kiss that painted stars in the sky and brought the fire of those stars into every fiber of our being. This was not a night for a long walk though the woods of gentle foreplay. No, this was the night when all the passion that is present through the days of living and loving come to a point of need as horses racing through a field. It is hard to imagine any two people being as close and euphoric as we were in those moments.

How we kept from awakening James Henry I will never know. We allowed the full expression of what we felt to flow freely. I just hoped the neighbors had not heard. I sat watching Martin's peaceful and spent expression. We simply looked deeply into each other's eyes.

"There. Did that fix everything? Heart beat back to normal now? Owww!"

"What, Louisa? Did I hurt you?"

"No. Oh no Martin. This baby is complaining in the only way she can. She is kicking the hell out of me for waking her up and who knows what else."

Martin moved his hand and began caressing my bump and in no time our little one settled down as did we. He took my hand again, and the three of us fell into a dreamless and peaceful sleep.

**With thanks to GriffinStar.**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers. **

**Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input. We continue with Louisa's reflections on Joan's birth.**

** CHAPTER TWELVE**

"Emily, you can't put a baby in a tummy."

James has brought so much joy to our lives. I cannot imagine life without him. Every day is a surprise with our son. One day during our call, Natalie reminded me that we would both be doubling our fun. A daughter for the Ellinghams and a son for the Jacobs. Now and then Emily and James wanted to talk to each other. One of their surprises was the idea that we could trade babies so James could have a brother and Emily could have a sister.

I told Natalie about James asking Bert Large if he was going to have a baby. She laughed almost as uncontrollably as Bert. "I can't beat that Louisa but Emily accompanied me to our women's class at church last Wednesday. Class was over and we were having coffee and visiting. The children were grabbing cookies and generally making everyone aware that the child minder had to leave early. For some reason there was a lull in the conversation which turned out to be the calm before the storm. Emily's voice could be clearly heard. 'My mommy's belly button is really getting big. Do you know why Sam? It is getting big because the baby is trying to get out.' So, Louisa, till the coffee pot was empty the conversation focused on my outie and our little boy's exit from the same."

It was my turn to laugh. We so enjoyed going through our pregnancies together. Of course Natalie was due three months before I was. Our inquisitive son gradually learned about babies, especially from his physician father. Martin showed him pictures and diagrams and on one occasion when he accompanied Martin to the hospital in Plymouth, Martin took him to a museum where they had models of fetuses in utero.

We always tried to answer James's questions without more information than he needed. For some reason he never wondered where babies come from - or so we thought. I had been visiting with Natalie and had to visit the loo - every hour on the hour it seemed. I put James on the phone with Emily while I was gone. Getting back I overheard one side of a very interesting conversation. When Natalie was back on the phone she shared Emily's side and we pieced together a brief but very fun insight into our babies.

Emily: "James, do you know where babies come from?"

James: "The baby is just in Mummy's tummy."

Emily: "How does she get in your Mommie's tummy?"

James laughed and said, "Oh Emily, a baby can't get in Mummy's tummy!"

What is in the mind of a child? I suppose if Auntie Joan had still been with us James would have learned of storks and gooseberry bushes. James never brought up the subject so we did not feel compelled to address it. I told Martin that if he continued to visit his Uncle Al at the farm, all would be made clear. ****************************************************

The nursery was pinked and prettied for our little girl. A small bag was packed for the hospital. At 36 weeks into this pregnancy, all was well, and had gone quite well. I looked at James over supper one night and thought, "No pub birth for this baby."

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon and I felt twinges which I didn't take seriously. Then there was minor pelvic discomfort and some dull pains, none regularly spaced. I told Martin and he said it was probably just Braxton Hicks or practice contractions and would likely settle down. They continued off and on through the night and I slept very little.

Around six Monday morning they subsided and we thought that was the end of it. Martin went to his surgery and attended to scheduled patients. I went back to bed. By ten the pains began again and I called Martin. Still minor and irregularly spaced Dr. Smith told me to simply monitor them. He still thought it to be false labor, so called. By supper I was simply exhausted and barely touched the tomato soup and bread Martin had prepared.

"Mummy, you should have seen the tower I made with my blocks today. It was as tall as I am. I had a sausage pasty for lunch. It was really yum. And when we went to the store I heard Mrs. Poustie tell the store lady that you were big as a house. Are you big as a house Mummy? I think you just have a fat tummy, but you're not big as a house."

It was hard for me to be patient with James going on like that. Going on even more than his usual talkative self, I decided I needed to get away. "OK James. Mummy's glad you had a nice day. I am going to leave my boys to it and go back to bed. Martin, I am going to call Dr. Smith again."

I had passed the call on to Martin and he told me that Dr. Smith still did not think this was the real thing and suggested I take something to calm things down and allow me to rest. Martin gave me a small pill with a "v" on it. Fairly quickly I felt relaxed and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

I was in such a deep sleep I could have been asleep for days, but sometime in the middle of the night I was awakened by a sharp pain such as I had never experienced. It felt like the Battle of Waterloo taking place in my body and I was on the losing side. My scream must have awakened souls in the cemetery. Gratefully James stayed asleep.

In 15 minutes Martin had us prepared and me in the car. He had awakened Mrs. Northcott and settled her to be with James until Morwenna could be summoned. We were on our way to hospital with my contractions being very close together.

I pleaded with Martin. "Martin, will we get to the hospital? I do _not _want to deliver this baby in a car."

"If I have anything to do with it, we will get to the hospital." In the midst of all this violence going on in my my body I recalled these were the words he told Peter Cronk when were were on the way to hospital to save his life. It was the night my softened heart melted completely and knew this man was different and I loved him. Yes I did!

Some simpleton said one forgets the labor once the baby is born. Well I can tell you I remember every bloody contraction in the car that night with my husband pleading, "Do not push Louisa! _Do NOT push_!" As if you could command Victoria Falls to hold up for just an hour or so.

Finally at hospital I was on a trolley being hurried down a hall. I was only aware of a final huge contraction and pushing my demanding child into this world. I told the nurse scurrying by my side, "It's done Love." She lifted the sheet and saw that it was so.

In the delivery room Dr. Smith placed our Joan on my chest. "Mrs. Ellingham, you have a beautiful healthy daughter. Congratulations. Well done."

When we were finally in my room I was able to sleep. I awakened to see Martin holding our child. We had made a baby and we had worked together and we had brought her into the world. For all of my upset early on, a feeling that we were complete now overwhelmed me. Our home was complete.

It was still early in the day of course. Chris Parsons came through the door with a smile. "Mart! Louisa! A surprise this morning when I read the night report and there you were. Congratulations!..."

There was an interrupting knock on the door. Slowly it cracked open to reveal Chris's wife Jenny with a huge smile. "Oh Louisa. The baby. Chris called me and I could not wait to get over here. She is beautiful."

"Thank you Jenny, we had quite a night, but all is fine now. When things settle, I will fill you in. It was quite an adventure."

Chris looked at Martin and said, "Well old friend, you are a bit speechless. What do you think?"

"Well as Louisa said, all is fine now. She thinks the baby's head may be a bit misshapen."

"MARTIN! You did not need to bring that up. Actually Chris it is an inside joke harkening all the way back to James's birth."

"Martin, making a joke. The earth must have stopped on its axis."

Around noon the paediatrician came by to do a thorough postnatal check of the baby. Of course this was the back-up examination as Martin had checked this baby stem to stern. Not taking the nurse's word for it, Martin did his own Apgar assessment.

I was surprised that my having taken Valium did not affect this child in the crying department. Her lungs held forth mightily. Of course all she was saying was "Where's the milk? Where's the milk?" Once placed near my breast, all was well.

After a midwife checked me over she pronounced me fine to go home, but she added, "Don't do it Dearie. Spend the night and go home tomorrow. You had some stitches, right?"

"Yes," I replied. "A bit sore."

"Of course you are. I'll order a sitz bath. It will help a lot. Your husband can stay with you here if you like, and your wee 'un will be close in the cot."

Later in the afternoon a very vivacious nurse came by. I recognized her right away but Martin did not.

"Hello Dr. Elllingham. Ms. Glasson; I mean Mrs. Ellingham. I heard and just had to come by and see your new baby. And oh, Dr. Ellingham, I know you prefer expresso so I brought you a cup."

"Uhh, thank you."

Martin was confused so I brought him into the conversation. "Martin, this is Mandie Boskano. Used to be Mandie Cox. I'm sure you treated her at some point. How are you Mandie? It has been ages since I have seen you."

"We're fine Ms. Glass... I mean..."

"Mandie, please just call me Louisa. Would you like to hold our little girl?"

"Oh yes! You're not remembering me, are you Dr. Ellingham? A strange nurse come to fawn over your baby."

"No I don't recall Ms. Bosanko."

"Boskano, Dr. Elllingham. I married Billy Boskano. I was the silly teen who came to you worried about my tiny tits. I had taken a whole package of birth control pills, hoping to grow 'em."

"Well yes, now I do recall..."

"That cup of expresso is an overdue thanks. You were very kind to me. Actually you helped me turn things around."

"I try to treat patients with what is needed."

"No, Dr. Ellingham, you are a dab hand! A real dab hand! I'm just off shift and ready to get some sleep. I'll take my leave. Your baby is really beautiful."

After Mandie left I told Martin, "What do you know Martin a thoughtful and intelligent Portwennian!"

"Well, obviously an exception."

"Oh Martin, you are hopeless! Do you know how many people in Portwenn would tell you thank you if they thought about it, as obviously Mandie did? Some of them are alive today because you did your job as you always say. And some of them like Mandie, evidently, have a life for the same reason."

"I didn't remember the girl."

"What matters Martin, is she remembered you."

We did leave the next morning and I was anxious to see James. It was not a great night for sleep, but I did feel better with the baths the nurse prepared for me. Mr. Smith came by early and the paediatrician had cleared Joan to go home the night before. We were away by nine and drove straight to Havenhurst. Having called ahead, they were out to meet us - minus Al who was attending to some sheep.

Morwenna was over the top. James was a little reserved, which is out of character. "Oh, she's asleep. Louisa, she is so beautiful. Please come in."

"Morwenna, we really want to get home. Perhaps you could drive in tomorrow and we can visit. I'll tell you all about this little one's arrival."

"I understand, but wait while I go get a casserole I made for you. You don't want to be cooking today."

So just like the sweet lady who lived here before, Morwenna has taken to preparing food for people. We accepted her gift and got James into his seat which was next to the baby. The four Ellinghams would soon be home together.

As we drove along James was fairly quiet. I noticed he was holding his sister's hand.

"Know what Mum?"

"No James. What?"

"I'm glad she's not a puppy."

Note: The conversation between James and Emily is a precise quote I had with my 4 year old grandson.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN REMEMBRANCE **

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers. **

**Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input. There may be spoilers for Season Six.**

** Louisa and Joan spend a day at one of Paris's finest museums. **

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN **

Joan and I awakened to a beautiful Paris morning. It was still early so we decided to walk to the Musée d'Orsay where we planned to spend the day. We found a small cafe in the Tuileries Garden not far from the Seine. I told Joan I fancied a bit of breakfast - meaning a proper breakfast.

"Mum, I believe the hotel does have a buffet to cater to the variety of visitors, but I am afraid I became used to how most French folk do it. I do not even know a word for breakfast in French. I think they usually just say _le petit deujeuner_- a little lunch. Most here just have a bit of bread and coffee. Maybe some fruit or yogurt. Let me order us something. It will be good for the morning and we can have lunch at the museum restaurant."

"Well, alright, maybe a good cuppa to start the day then."

"Mum, tea in France is their revenge. It is expensive and not all that good. I will take care of us."

I ordered us a fresh baguette and espresso. Nothing like this wonderful crusted bread with butter and sipping black espresso slowly. Of course you know my mother. Had to add a bit of sugar. I follow my dad in that department.

Being near the door we could feel the coolness of the morning. The air seemed fresh as it ushered in the day. I remembered to tell Mum that I had booked a massage for us with the concierge.

"Did you know Novotel offers free massages on Tuesdays and Thursdays? I scheduled us for half six. Afterwards we can eat at the hotel restaurant."

"That sounds marvelous. Perfect ending to a perfect day."

"It will be that, Mum. The Musée d'Orsay is one of my favorite places to spend a day in Paris."

The museum was not far. It is situated in a magnificent old railway station and holds the largest collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings in the world. They have whole rooms dedicated to each of the masters - Cezanne, Degas, Van Gogh, and my favorite, Monet. One gets heady just imagining it! And there is furniture, sculptures, photography and so much more. It is simply a delight to slowly savor it which Mum and I did. It is quite amazing that we stayed together and talked, as most couples differ in their museum pace.

Mum had stopped in front of a painting and I knew she was off in another world. She didn't even hear me when I asked what she was thinking. She simply said,

"It is so dark and frightening!"

I looked closely and it was a painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme entitled Jérusalem. It was a picture of the crucifixion of Christ showing only the shadow of crosses with everyone departing as clouds of darkness begin to obscure everything. Mum's voice had fear in it. I had to ask her, "What's wrong Mum? There are many paintings like this."

"No Joan, not just like _this! _You think the past is gone and then something like this just opens pains long forgotten. Look at it. It just cries _"Abandoned!" _

Mum and I were close and I knew a good bit of her life before and after she met Dad. Her mum did leave her when she was quite young. She and Dad must have both felt abandoned when they kept trying to make things work, but kept running away from each other. But that was so over. My Granny Eleanor tried to make up for the past. I always liked her. She was funny and fun. I wish she would have visited more. It was crazy how she and Dad would try to stir each other up, but it was mainly teasing. She and Mum got on well I think. You can't erase the past but seems like you can fix it a bit.

"But, Mum, life is good. No one is leaving anyone now. Besides I've watched you. You go out of your way to be sure no one ever feels left out or alone. Your hurt made you a better person. Come on, give me a smile. Let's take a break and have some lunch." I gave her a huge hug and she responded warmly.

"Sorry Joan, but when something like this happens, there is no stopping the memories. You'll see someday. Yes, let's eat. I am a bit peckish."

Later we moved room by room viewing the great masters. We were standing before a lovely work by Van Gogh with a couple resting in the shade of a hay stack. Being entitled _La Méridienne,_ it was obviously depicting a nap together after lunch following a hard morning's work.

"Oh Mum, that so makes me think of you and Dad. You have both worked so hard and deserve a bit of a rest. You taught for so many years. I know you loved it, but it must be good not to be reporting for work every day."

"Yes, Joan I am glad not to have the rigors of administration and politics. I do enjoy volunteering with the students though. I always enjoyed the children. It was a bit of a tap dance having your own children in school. I know I was a bit hard on James when I had to discipline him. Went overboard to show I wasn't being partial."

"We all survived Mum. It's hard for Dad to slow down, isn't it?"

"His consulting on cases keeps him in the game a bit. His opinion is still respected and he often receives radiographic communication on which he is asked to give his diagnosis. And oh my, remember last winter when the locum physician called him in a panic. I think he really was glad to be able to perform the emergency appendectomy on the Clancy boy at the surgery. He still has a steady hand."

It was late in the day when Mum got all moody on me again. I think we were getting weary and I was planning a taxi back to the hotel. We were in Salle 10 which was dedicated to Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.

Standing before a work with the title Le Lit, Mum said, "I do hope James and Emily are happy. The couple in the bed are so peaceful. It makes me think of our newlyweds."

"Crikey Mum, they've known each other their whole lives. Trust me, they are happy."

"Yes, I know. The year they lived close to each other gave them confirmation that their affection over the years was the real thing. This picture is just so beautiful. It reminds me of James and Emily. I hope they sleep this peacefully."

"Sleep! Are you joking? But I do agree. It is beautiful and serene. The two appear to be sleeping without any care or worry."

"Well there is little to worry about on the Isle of St. Martin. It is only 2 1/2 miles long. Perhaps we should call them tonight."

"No Mum, we should _not _call them tonight. Let them sleep peacefully or maybe be awake privately without our interrupting. This is their week, OK?"

"Alright, I suppose you're right.."

With that we did decide to make our way to the exit and back to the hotel. We were mounting some stairs when my toe caught the edge and I fell, catching my left knee on the corner of a stair. It was quite painful. A guard was with me instantly to assist. So we had a slight detour while my knee was attended to at a first aid room. After the initial shock the pain was not too bad but I definitely had skinned my knee properly.

On the way back in the taxi we were too tired to converse and feeling my knee, my mind wandered.

My brother was the best. When very young he was a tease but he was always my defender and supporter. In a very unsibling-like manner we talked about everything. I knew a lot more about him and Emily than Mum did, and had for a long time. And now they are married. It will alter our relationship but I am bound to stay close to him. Dad and James are the only two males I trust completely.

It was after school one day in the playground. I was in year two and my friend Mary and I were running. Suddenly my foot caught on something and I was flat on my face. I remember it really hurting. Mrs. Wilcox was helping me up. I was crying but I could see my brother James sitting on top of Arthur Couch hitting him in the head. Suddenly Mr. Connor, the school caretaker, was pulling James off of Arthur. Arthur looked awful. I didn't know a person had that much blood.

It turned out that James saw Arthur trip me. Arthur was in year five and was always picking on kids. Anyway, James got in a lot of trouble. Mum, who was head teacher, suspended him for a week. He had to miss a really important football match. I know Dad gave him a really hard time. He had to be grounded from life.

Late that night when we were going to bed James came to my room. "How ya doin' Muffin?"

"I'm OK. I'm sorry you got in trouble James."

"Don't worry about it. I did what needed doing."

"But Mum and Dad are really mad, aren't they? What did Dad tell you?"

"Lot's of stuff. He mainly said acting without thinking will always get me in trouble. He told me astronauts act on instinct when there is a crisis. They can do it because they plan ahead for problems. You've heard him say this."

"Sure. Dad sounds more like a teacher than Mum sometimes. Are you grounded?"

"Yeah. But that's not the worst of it. He is telling Mum when I go back to school I have to sit 30 minutes every day for a week alone facing Arthur across a table. What can come of that?"

"I'm sorry James."

"Muffin, you are worth two weeks of facing Arthur. If he ever gives you trouble, I want you to tell me."

"Thanks James, you're the best!"


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. There may be spoilers for Season Six.**

**Are you curious about James and a wedding? Wait no more!**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

_ A daughter's a daughter the whole of her life. A son is a son 'til a son takes a wife._

James and Emily were off on a proper hike. They would be gone most of the day so I decided to call Natalie and chat a bit. James was on a break from his medical studies and Emily, with a holiday break, had come to spend a month. He was based in Plymouth but they wanted a good bit of time in Portwenn. Frankly I was thrilled. Time with my son is a premium now with his studies. There was no choice of course on having him to myself. He and Emily had been joined at the hip since childhood and that had only become a firmer attachment with time. But there was a change in the wind. I could see it in the way that they were with each other during this visit. So thinking I might catch Natalie mid afternoon I dialed her number. We spoke with each other almost weekly.

"Louisa! Hello on a rainy summer day in Connecticut. What's going on with our children? Emily has not been very good in the communication department."

"Well, Natalie, not too much talk here, but plenty of communication, if you get my drift."

"I'm all ears. Tell me!"

"I have to tell you your daughter is a thief, Natalie - a bloody thief!"

"Whoa, what in the world are you talking about?"

"Your daughter is stealing my son's heart. And the other half of it is he is handing it back on a golden platter!"

"Well, no surprise is there? They have been heading toward this for a long time; since childhood I would say. Remember how Emily would steal James's toys and he would set up a howl? We tried to teach them to trade, but they still had their battles and bruises."

"All I can say, Natalie is the look in their eyes is different. Their conversations are close and private. There is an ocean between them but I would bet my money that they are trying to figure out how to narrow the distance."

"Well Louisa, Natalie has her teaching credential. Could she teach there where James is? I don't see how he could change his medical studies to the States."

"With a degree in science, I do not think there would be a problem. She could begin as a Supply Teacher, and that could work into a full time position. But those are the facts. Where are your emotions girl? Your first-born an ocean away?"

"Well, I can tell you on the practical side my food budget will go down not having to keep Emily supplied with Marmite and Yorkshire Tea.

"But Louisa, I honestly couldn't be more pleased. They are mature beyond their age and I will leave it to them. My bet is they will be having conversations with us very soon and seeking our advice. It is how they do things. Emily and I talk a lot and I can tell you she loves James deeply. They have both had opportunities with others. I know we did the high school dating thing, proms and all. You told me about the girl from Wadebridge that James seemed to fancy. These two always came back to the fact that they were each other's True North."

I laughed, recalling a time when James and Emily were teens. Luke had traded parishes with our vicar for a month or so and so our families were together again for an extended time that summer. James must have been fourteen and that would have meant Emily was 15.

"What is funny Louisa?"

"Do you remember the summer you were here for a month? I remember Joan telling me one night that she thought James and Emily would marry someday."

"I had forgotten that. She would only have been 10 or so at the time."

"Yes, she came in giggling because she had seen James and Emily snogging behind the garden shed. Well, later that night we were having a mother daughter cuddle and she told me, 'Mum, I think James and Emily will get married.' All I said at the time was, 'No time soon I hope.'"

"Mothers-in-law together. I can't think of anyone else I would want to be with in this deal Louisa. They are with you so you had better be ready for some news and talking. Luk wants me to go visit some parishioners together so I need to grab a shower and get ready. Call me tomorrow, promise?"

"Sure. We are going to be talking a lot I think. Bye Natalie."

Natalie's words could not have been more prophetic. After supper, Emily said she wanted to talk so we took a walk. We found a bench looking over the harbour.

It was a beautiful evening and the sun would soon kiss the sea. We just sat together and took in the peaceful scene. Suddenly without fanfare Emily said, "Louisa, I want to marry James and I want your blessing."

"Well, Emily, usually the boy asks the girl's father for her hand in marriage. Yet, you are asking me."

"James will talk with my dad, I'm sure. But hang tradition. I will be taking your son. Your family is so special to me. No, you are special to me and it is only right that I ask your permission. It would mean a lot if you say yes."

"Tell, me Emily, when did James propose to you? I would love to hear about that."

"This will surprise you but there was none of the down-on-the-knee stuff. Actually I told James I wanted to marry him when we were 14. You know that summer when we were here? A lot has happened but somehow it has always been there. We are at a place now where it it possible and we have both allowed our hearts and heads to say a big yes to each other. There is a lot to work out, but that little boy I used to fight with is the man I want to spend my life with."

"Emily, I couldn't be happier. Of course you have my blessing." Of course I could not voice that with dry eyes, and we hugged each other. It was a seal-the-deal hard and long hug"

We allowed our selves to relax from our embrace and Emily said, "You know I used to ask Mom how you could know if a person was the right one to marry. She told me a lot but she said there was one thing that was really important. She said to pay attention to how his father treats his wife. I have watched how Dr. Ellingham cares for you and talks to you. I know what Mom meant. I want to be treated like that."

"We have had a lot to work out in our relationship Emily, but I can tell you I do feel cared for and cherished. Martin is a good husband. I am very lucky. You know I am curious, does James know we are having this conversation?"

"No. He will eventually, but it was important to me for this to be just between us first. Mom never had a sister until you came along. You are really like sisters. I want to be able to talk with you like I talk with Mom. I thought the way to begin that was to invite you into my most personal and intimate concern, your son! I wish my words could convey my feelings for him."

"Emily, words can never convey the depth of our emotions. Our eyes can though and your eyes have been talking to me since you arrived. Tonight your heart has overflowed and covered your words completely.

"One more thing Emily. You can always come to me about anything but I will not pry or interfere in your private affairs. I am a doting mother and I know I am very capable of meddling. But I have to say, to have another daughter that I can dote over - well I...I...I am absolutely just chuffed to bits."

"Oh, Louisa, thank you. Thank you so much."

Darkness was finally settling in and we sat for awhile longer. Finally I said, "Emily, I am very happy for you and James. A lot to talk about I think, but it can wait until tomorrow. You must be really tired after your hike today."

"Yes, how do you say it? I am quite knackered. Let's walk back and see what the men are up to."

So we slowly made our way back to the house. As we walked I wondered if these cobblestones had a memory. Did these stones sense all of the times I went out of my way to catch a glimpse of the enigmatic but very handsome man who I would one day call my husband? Could they have known the nights I noticed the light go out at the surgery, having wondered what Martin was doing. Did they recall the night prying eyes could be seen through cracked shades as a very pregnant lady made her way to a room at the pub? Did they know that night that she had never felt that depth of despair? Did they remember all the times I covered them walking to the school, many of those years with my children by my side? Do they sense the pride I feel now when Martin clasps my hand as we walk through town together?

The stones almost seem to whisper, "Yes, Dear Child, we remember it all, and more."

It was fun remembering when Emily and James were teens. They must have really had fun that summer. Roger Fenn certainly noticed. James took guitar lessons from him.

One day I met Roger on the street and he made mention of James being a bit star-struck with a certain visitor from America. "Ahh, teenage love Louisa, what a thing to behold! You know I think of it as an outward inexpressibility of inward alloverishness." We laughed warmly and maybe both thought of being young again.

No probably not. Who would want to replay that?

Yet, replay it is exactly what Martin and I did it seems. We were like a couple of teens full of fear and insecurity and not a few butterflies in the stomach. For kids there is time. Time to fail. Time to kiss and make up. Time to fail and find another.

Martin and I did not have that luxury. Time was not on our side. I think both, and I am sure I, felt that we might not have another chance at love like this. What if we failed? Even if there were another chance with another person, would one have the emotional energy to invest in another go at a relationship? Maybe not. So were we desperate? I don't know. The one thing I do know is that looking back, _there was never again to be a love like ours._ And there is not a love like ours. Every loving couple can say it. And it is true for each one.

We climbed the final hill to our house and the kitchen light was on. Emily and I walked in on our two men, and said, "Hey, you two. What have you been up to?"


	15. Chapter 15 Remembrance

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. There may be spoilers for Season Six.**

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN REMEMBRANCE**

Louisa and James's good friend Emily were taking a walk. We had finished supper. James and I were in the sitting room. I had a pretty uneventful day but I imagined James was a bit weary after hiking for over six hours above the cliffs all day. Oh, to be young again. He and Emily came home looking more energized by the day than tired.

"Dad, for someone who doesn't drink alcohol you have a rather well-stocked cabinet here. What's this, an 18 year old Laphroaig? I must have a wee dram of this. Where did this come from?"

"Friends, medical reps and even some Portwennians over the years."

"Well, introduce me to some of your friends. I want to be on their gift list!"

I nursed my wonderful espresso and James was enjoying his Scotch. We understood that sometimes the best conversation is silence. It was good just to relax in the presence of each other. Of course in this presence was also Jack - James's Jack Russell Terrier.

The first person to greet me in Portwenn so many years ago was not a person. No, it was that mangy black dog who became my shadow. I could never get rid of that pesky dog. Then there was Buddy, my Aunt Joan's white-haired pooch. I think he spoke the king's English because I often gave my derisive opinion of him and he responded by urinating on my shoe.

Once James and Joan came into our life, I was doomed. They attempted to bring home all manner of living creatures which I put forth the greatest effort to eradicate from our house. In the end I am afraid they gained the upper hand, much to their mother's amusement.

James must have been around eight when I arrived home one afternoon to find the kitchen table piled high with all of my copies of the British Medical Journal. I was surprised the table could stand all the weight. Louisa walked in at about the same time.

Louisa said, "What is this all about? It is going to be a little hard to have supper on _this _table tonight."

"Louisa," I replied, "I have no idea. James what is the meaning of this? You know you are not to be in my office."

"Dad, I have been doing research. You always say animals breed disease and are dirty and so we can't have a pet. Would you show me an article in one of these magazines that says that? I have been reading and what I read tells me that having a dog can be good for children. It can even cause them to be healthier than people who don't have a dog. I really want a dog Dad."

I did not like to be cornered. I was becoming angry and I let it show. I became harsh with James.

"James I want these magazines returned to my office in the order you found them. I have said there will be no pets allowed in this family and I stand by my decision."

"But Dad, won't you look at the articles I found? Look, this issue has an article that says people with heart trouble do better if they have a dog."

"No James, I will not read the articles! I will hear no more of this." As I said this, James had the most confused look on his face.

From the other side of the table my daughter's voice was heard to say, "Daddy, I think you are mean. I want James to have a dog."

"Joan, you need to go to your room and do not return until supper!"

I looked over at Louisa and she seemed shell-shocked. It was obvious this was not destined to be a comfortable evening in the Ellingham house. Later, we ate, pretty much in silence which was quite unlike my loquacious family. Our table is usually a happy one. The children just picked at their food. There was friction and resentment in the air. I wanted nothing more than to retire to my room and be able to be away from it. Thing is, it followed me through the door, or better said, _she _followed through the door. There would obviously be some things laid to rest before I could rest this night.

Louisa is quick to get to the point and it is not about James having a dog.

"Alright, Martin, what is this about? You do not speak to the children like that. It is just not your manner. When you respond like this, it usually has to do with your past. You know this is true. What is going on? I was really mad downstairs. Right now I am not angry. I am worried. This is just not you."

"Louisa, I really do not want to talk about it. It is one of the most painful memories I have from my childhood. I know I spoke unreasonably to James but perhaps with a night's sleep it will be better for all of us in the morning. He will see that is really better if we do not have a dog."

"No Martin, he will not be over it in the morning. You will have to have a rational conversation with him and really listen to him. How do we get beyond this Martin?"

"Oh god, Louisa, When I was only five years I found a kitten on the street and brought it home. It was very small, a calico and very affectionate. When my mother saw it she became irate. I remember her words, 'Where did that filthy animal come from?' she said. She called the maid and told her to get rid of my kitten. I begged her, 'Please, Mummy, no. Please no.' Her response was to slap me and put me in the cupboard under the stairs until my father came home."

"Oh Martin. No. _No!_ This is so terrible."

"I told you Louisa. When my father arrived that evening he lectured me on how animals are dirty and cause disease. I was never to be around them. That night as many other nights he told me he did not want to see a whiney crying son and sent me to my room.

"Louisa, I caused the death of that kitten. I just don't want my children to go through the pain of loss that comes with a pet dying."

"Oh my dear man, when will these pains go away forever? Why must they return to hurt you so?"

My eyes were wet and I was exhausted. Louisa was almost inconsolable in her crying after my story. We finally settled, lost in our own thoughts and prepared for bed. After all, the new day of work would not make allowances for family upheaval.

And I would have to face my son in the morning. What would I say? What would I say.

Just before we went to sleep, Louisa put her hand on my face and said, "Sometimes when I make a demand, you acquiesce. God knows, I would like to do that now but I won't Martin. I believe James should have a dog, but if he does you will have to tell him that you wish it or at least allow it. It will have to be your decision. I love you."

"Thank you Louisa. What would I do without you?"

"I don't know Martin. I don't even want to think about it. Sleep well."

"You too. Good night."

I was a bit relieved. Without Louisa's demand I would have a bit of a reprieve.

But I still had to talk with James. At the very least I knew I must read the research he had done.

It was some four months later that James came in on a rainy Saturday soaking wet carrying a small black dog. At first I didn't know if the animal was alive. James spoke first.

"Dad, I found this puppy in the street. He is hurt. Can you help him?"

I wanted to simply tell him to take the dog back outside, but could not do it. I would be no better than my heartless mother.

"James, go put on some dry clothing. We will see what we can do about the dog."

I placed a plastic cover on the utility table and retrieved my medial bag. The dog was not seriously hurt. He was suffering from hypothermia and had injured his leg. Fortunately the leg was not broken so we treated and bandaged it. When dried and fed the animal was quite animated. Of course James was over the top that he was OK.

"Thanks Dad."

"Of course James, but you do know we need to find the owner of this dog. He has a collar."

That put a damper on his spirits even though there had been no talk of our keeping the animal.

A few days later a Mr. Pettigrew came to our door and announced, "I understand you may have found my dog."

I invited him in. We entered the sitting room and I went to find James.

"James, there is a man here who says he is the owner of the dog. You need to bring him to the sitting room." In a way I regretted having to tell James as he looked quite forlorn. If the owner had not come I was finding it very difficult to tell James we would have to find the dog a different home. On several fronts my emotions were still rebelling, but my better judgement was executing a huge override.

When James came bringing the dog, Mr. Pettigrew said, "Well little fellow, where did you get off to? What's your name son?"

"James Henry Ellingham, sir."

"Smokey seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Is that his name, Smokey?"

"Yes. Seems to fit doesn't it? Blackie would have done, but I like Smokey. His leg is bandaged. What happened to him?"

"I don't know sir. I found him in the rain Saturday and he was hurt."

"Well, son, I can see you have taken good care of him. Do you have a dog, James?"

"No sir."

"Well James, every boy should have a dog. I have several, and I believe this little fellow would like to be with you."

"Dr. Ellingham, I would like to give the dog to James, with your permission, of course."

I looked at my son and if a look could be a prayer he was praying hard.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Pettigrew, but...but are you certain?"

"Absolutely. I am determined. It would be a great pleasure for me."

I did not hesitate in my response. "Well I can assure you that James is a very responsible boy and you can be sure you have placed your dog in good hands."

"Not my dog anymore. James, it is my greatest pleasure to give him to you."

"Thank you sir."

And then James looked at me. He did not have to say "Thank you," as the look on his face was so much more eloquent.

**A bit of trivia: Can you find the brief line from Jane Austen?**


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. There may be spoilers for Season Six.**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

James arose and went to the window which looked out on the sea. Jack got up, stretched and walked to me. I scratched behind his ears and he sat down at my feet.

"Dad, I know you have wondered at my choosing to pursue my speciality at the deanery in Plymouth. It is like the words of that song, "There was something in the city I couldn't breathe and something in the country that I knew I couldn't leave." I just can't imagine spending several years in London. The program in Plymouth is quite good and Dr. Lovett is excellent. I do love Cornwall."

It was a beautiful evening as the sun was setting. It was this view and this location that urged our purchase of this house from Colonel Gilbert Spencer and his wife. This has become a haven for our family and I could not gainsay James's comments or his decision. He has become an avid outdoors person and he has maintained friendships here.

"James, I have always tried to tell you that formal education is simply a means of teaching you how to learn. Most of your learning will take place after your have your degree. I believe the training in psychiatry at the school in Plymouth is more than adequate. It's tie to programs in Devon and Exeter is very good. We did discuss it at length and I think your decision is a good one."

James returned to his chair and in an earnest gesture folded his hands together and leaned toward me. "Dad, Emily and I want to be married. I don't know how we will work it out with her an ocean away, but we love each other and want to be a family."

Well, obviously the comment about his training was James's fishing for some way to get to what was really on his mind. Not finding a suitable transition he simply jumped to it. Then the coin dropped and I realized that Louisa and Emily's walk was more than a jaunt around the neighborhood. I simply said, "I am sure you have both given it considerable thought. There are many unknowns, of course, but I have to say I do encourage the pursuit of your decision. Emily is a lovely mature woman. Your friendship is amazing. I would be surprised if you did not want to continue it. Do we have a proposal and a ring?"

"No Dad, none of the above. Actually it was Emily who brought up marriage and would you believe she did it when we were teens? Remember the accident the summer the Jacobs visited us?"

"That incident remains etched in the family history James."

"The sun was coming up and we were on that ledge hoping you would find us. Emily told me, 'James, I am going to marry you.' I remember not saying a word and in my mind thinking it would be good if we got out of our predicament first."

As I talked with Dad my mind traveled to that day. I will never forget seeing Emily's still form lying on that ledge and not knowing if she were alive. In that instant, even though I was quite young, I knew my feelings for her. It was as if _I _were lying on that precipice with _my _head bleeding.

The time had started out so well. Dad had dropped Emily and me some miles from Portwenn where we would hike and camp along the cliffs for two days. Hiking and climbing was my passion. Some months prior some mates and I had climbed Ben Nevis in Scotland. Today would be an easy trek with my life-long friend from the States. It was the evening of the second day and I was securing our tent as the winds were picking up. Emily had gone wandering and I had not given her whereabouts a thought until I heard her piercing scream. I knew she had fallen from the cliff and my heart was in my throat. I looked for a long while and finally could see her legs on a ledge some 20 metres from the top. I found a different perspective and could see her head had blood on it.

My dad had taught me never to panic but to always think through a situation. Emily might not even be alive but if she were I could never get her up that cliff with night coming on and the fact that the cliff was one that cut into the side which made climbing up impossible. I could see gathering angry clouds and put on my rain gear.

I gathered my first-aid pack, a sleeping bag, water and a ground cloth. I added energy bars to the pack and tied off to rappel down to Emily. thankfully my climbing harness was still in my pack. Cruelly, the storm hit just as I was beginning my descent.

It was with a heart of thanks that I discovered Emily's pulse was strong. I imagined she had suffered a concussion. I rigged a make-shift shelter with the ground-cloth over her. It was obvious that her ankle was severely broken and I would have to splint it. I washed the blood from her head and she began to come around. She looked at me, her teeth were chattering and she said, "James I was so stupid. I went too close wanting to see below. I am so cold and my leg really hurts."

Emily was wearing cotton jeans and a cotton sweatshirt, a recipe for disaster in cold wet weather. My mind went to a pamphlet I had read recently, _Hypothermia, The Killer of the Unprepared._ My phone was useless here. Knowing we could not have help before morning, I cut Emily's clothes off of her, stripped down to my boxers, zipped us both in the goose-down sleeping bag and secured the ground cloth around us to keep us dry. It was in those close quarters that Emily said that one day we would be married. I just wanted the next day to come and to get her to a doctor. The bit about marriage was probably a result of the concussion, I thought. But the day the Jacobs left for the States we sneaked off in private and kissed good bye. She told me, "James I meant what I said that night on the cliff. I really meant it."

The morning after the storm Dad and Emily's dad drove out to pick us up wondering how we had fared. They saw the red shirt flag I had put up at a distance and knew something was wrong. With the rope and the climbing harness they were able to pull us up to safety one at a time. Because of her weak state, I had to tie Emily to the rope. We must have been quite a site dangling in the air in our nearly all-togethers. I had dry clothing and Emily was wrapped in our other sleeping bag.

In less than an hour we were at the hospital in Truro.

Dad reigned me back in from my mental ramblings and said, "Well James it is often the crises in our lives that make us focus on the important. That is certainly true for your mother and me. Tell me, have you considered the logistics of all of this with Emily in Connecticut and you in Plymouth?"

"We are hoping that Emily could find a position teaching in Plymouth. If so, we could work things out in a fairly short time. Emily is going to ask Mum about teaching here in the UK with a certification from the States."

"James my only suggestion is that you not put matters on a fast track. It would seem prudent to take some time given all the logistical issues and your needing to build your relationship."

"Dad, what do you mean? Emily and I have been getting to know each other for many years. We are really ready to get married."

"Of course you are but I stand by what I said. Let me suggest that if things work out for a teaching position that Emily move to Plymouth and you take some time, perhaps a year, really getting to know each other. You think you understand each other but you have never lived close by for any length of time. Even after you are married you will be amazed how complex we are and how difficult it is to know another person. At times your mother and I are still a mystery to each other. We do not take that for granted. If you do, you find yourself making assumptions and judgements that are ill founded.

"Besides, have you considered the matter of a wedding? That planning takes time. You surely do not think that your mother and Natalie are going to support your trotting off the registrar and riding off to live happily ever after. If Emily thinks as you do, I feel sure she will be put to rights by said parties, and if you have any sense at all you will stay out of it."

"Dad, are you saying that Natalie and I should live together in Plymouth?"

"Oh god James, surely you know me better than that. What a recipe for disaster! If you want to complicate your getting to know each other and possibly even jeopardize your relationship, move in with each other. As far as I know there is nothing that indicates that will make for a more stable marriage. I know the norm for many is simply to live together and ignore marriage. Some do so with success and others less so. But your mother and I would not feel that would be the best for our children. And I feel confident that Luk and Natalie wouldn't either."

James looked a little shocked and said, "You're right Dad. Sorry I even mentioned it."

"Well I am too. I don't know where that came from. A bit bodmin wasn't it?"

James responded laughing, "Dad you are sounding like the natives."

"By the way James, have you talked with Luk about this? If you are getting things in order I think that would be a first order of business."

"That will happen very soon Dad."

I am sure he saw the look of surprise on my face. "I should hope so James. I surely hope so."

With that the back door opened and Louisa and Emily entered with Joan close behind. She had been with a friend and I hadn't heard the car drive up. They entered the room all smiles wondering what we had been up to.

"Oh, you know, just a quiet evening keeping Jack company. And you, how was your walk?"

"A beautiful evening for a walk. Just a lot of girl talk."

Joan interrupted, "Let me make a pot of tea. Would everyone like some?"

Of all the topics that were surely discussed this night, on this one there was consensus.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. There may be spoilers for Season Six.**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

I had told Dad I would call Emily's father and work out a time when we both could talk for awhile. Luk was probably his closest friend. Actually I think the number of people he considered "friends" could be counted on one hand. I knew Luk to be a pleasant person and rather looked forward to our conversation, but I did not know how to begin. I was most uncomfortable getting things going. "I want to marry your daughter," seemed a bit blunt. Small talk would seem stupid. I finally placed the call, not sure how I would begin.

"A call from England. Hello James. I have been expecting you. Hope things are well there with you and our daughter. Emily has been miss non communication since arriving there."

"We are well, sir. I appreciate your taking some time so we can talk a bit. I suppose I should get to it and tell you the purpose of my call."

"Sure James. As I look around this house, there are pieces of conversation lying all over the place that lead up to this, but it will be good to hear it from you. I am all ears. Tell me what's on your mind or your heart or both."

"Mr. Jacobs, I want to spend the rest of my life with Emily. You know how long we have known each other. I do love her. We have talked about this at length. I simply want to know that you and Mrs. Jacobs would welcome our marriage. Sir, as a priest you do a lot of blessing. If you have one for us we would be very glad."

"Well, James from your voice you would be glad but also very relieved. Let me put you at ease. First, Mr. Jacobs was my father. Please call me Luk. Second, nothing would make Natalie and me happier than to welcome you into our family and have Emily be a part of your wonderful family. There, is that better? Why don't we pour ourselves a drink and visit about this."

So for the next two hours Luk and I had a most enjoyable conversation. It was so easy to see why he and my father had connected when they lived in Portwenn. Emily and I were only toddlers at the time. He put me at ease in a way I could not have imagined and I truly looked forward to times together with Luk and his wife.

I don't think he or my dad have a phony bone in their bodies.

"The devil is in the details James. Have you and Emily figured out how this is all going to come together?"

"She is going to speak with Mum as to how to secure a teaching assignment, hopefully in Plymouth where I will be for at least two and maybe five more years. I know you might wish we would settle there in the States, but there are many reasons why that is not tenable if I intend to continue my career path. We have not talked about when all of this will happen, but we are determined to make it work."

"I never expected Emily to live Stateside. Over the years her affinity for England has only increased. She does not like to go out for breakfast because she cannot get her egg and soldiers or Marmite for her toast. Oh, and she has never had tea in a restaurant in America that she did not consider substandard. We have a lovely lady in our parish who is from Surrey. She told Emily once she could never understand why people would put tea in rags to brew it. So James there is more than one reason Emily will be most happy to be living there. Another plus is she would be closer to her grandparents in Belgium.

"You know, James, I am very curious as to why you have decided to specialize in Psychiatry. I would have thought you might have followed your family's tradition and gone into surgery. Why psychiatry?"

"Sir, there are many events and thoughts that led to my decision. Actually it was Aunt Ruth, my Dad's aunt actually, who planted the idea and nourished it over time.

"Then you may recall that when I completed my A Levels I had an opportunity to work for a year in medical program in Central America. That year had a lot to do with how I view life now and what I value. Most do not think of addictions being a problem in nonwestern countries. Believe me, it is huge. Both alcohol and drugs. For six months I worked in a center for addiction rehabilitation. I realized if we could save one man we very likely saved his family from a life you do not want to imagine."

Luke was intrigued by my direction and went on, "It interests me greatly James on several levels. Obviously in a pastoral role I deal with mental health all the time so our interests intersect. The baffling thing we both have to face is the continuing stigma there is attached to mental illness and the counseling profession."

I responded. "There is a fiction among medical students that those who can't cut it in another speciality go into Psychiatry. Dad told me that he depreciated psychiatry and counseling earlier in his career. Said he called it _psychobabble. _That, even given the fact that his aunt is a psychiatrist. The brain is the least understood of all our organs. The issues of cognition, will and emotions are very complex. I don't think of it as a last resort but as an immense challenge."

"How does your dad feel about your decision?"

I had discussed the matter with Dad a good bit. I remember telling dad. "You and Mum, Dad, you play a large part in my decision. You told me once that counseling helped you and Mum stay together."

Dad hesitated a bit and then replied, "Yes, it is true. Aunt Ruth told me when we were at a point of crisis that if I were not willing to change I should leave your mother alone. She told me that anybody can change and I would have to work on it harder than most. You have no idea how much I feared losing your mother and you. I determined to not play games. Whatever was required, I would do it. So yes, I will say that Dr. Whitby had a great deal to do with showing us how to find our way together. As I reluctantly began to tell your Mum of my past and feelings she realized that she had not told me much at all of her life. We stayed in the boat and when the waves were high we stayed the course. You can see the result."

"Dad, that's what I mean. You and Mother are my rock and my example. Then there was the day I saw a surgeon break down and my decision was final."

Quickly back in my visit with Luk I told him about that event that pretty much sealed my decision to focus on mental health.

"Luk, let me tell you something that happened while I was on surgery rotation.

We were observing a fairly routine vascular procedure and they realized they were losing the patient, a young woman, perhaps in her 30's. Her heart stopped and they worked to resuscitate her but to no avail. I watched as the surgeon supported himself on the edge of the trolley, his head bowed. Suddenly he threw his hat on the floor along with his gloves and began swearing and yelling. He left the theatre, slamming the door as he left. Gradually people left. When I was alone with my head in my hands I remembered my dad's own experience that led to his giving up surgery. It was as if a decision had been made for me. What do religious people call it, a calling? I would become a psychiatrist because there are medical issues that a scalpel cannot solve."

There was a bit of silence and Luke told me, "James, you're going to have to let me catch my breath on that one."

"Then let me ask you a question. Why are you a priest? What drives you to do what you do?"

"Well James, I don't know if there is a short answer to that, but I will try. After all you have been quite eloquent with me. I was inspired to be a priest by a Father Andrew who worked at a youth center. What motivates me, that takes a little more thought and time. Let me say James that every week I stand before a group of people and say words based on an ancient text to help them fully live the life they have been given. I walk with them through the good, bad and even the ugly. In a word I try to encourage them to Do Truth."

"Don't you mean _believe truth,_ Luk?"

"No, James, not at all. Quite the opposite in fact. Believing truth has to do with what people see as true, what version of truth they have heard. That is what has caused so much of the mess we find ourselves in. What I am talking about is seeing people as they are and treating them with acceptance and love. I think this is especially true in the family. Do Truth. I know your dad too well. I think you know exactly what I am talking about."

I realize in my mind that I want to marry a woman who has been deeply involved with church her whole life. I suppose this is why Dad has suggested that we take time to work through some of these issues. The times I visited the Jacobs I enjoyed being with them in church. I knew why my parents became more involved when they were together in Portwenn. That ebbed and flowed over the years but but we did have an ongoing connection at our parish. I certainly could navigate the BCP and do the service without opening it.

I know my dad had changed his attitude over time. He told me once that he did not disparage religion but could not tolerate shallow or dogmatic religion. I know Luk challenged his thinking a great deal and continues to do so in their interactions. Albert Schweitzer has influenced his thinking quite a lot.

When I was 12 or 13 we were on a walk above the town and I asked Dad what he believed about God. We were walking through a field of wild flowers and he asked me, "James, can you make a flower?"

I did reply, though the question seemed almost silly. "Well, no of course not."

"James all I can say to answer your question is that something much greater than us is at play here. Humans have been trying to define this with human language for thousands of years, very inadequately. To me faith is simply reaching out a hand in the dark. It makes more sense for me to focus on what I can understand and control and just let the mystery be."

The defining event that sticks in my mind is when Dad asked Joan and me to accompany him to the place where his Auntie Joan is buried. I knew Dad visited the cemetery at times. He told me once he didn't believe in all the hocus pocus of talking with the dead, but it was a quiet place to think and be by himself. We stopped at Auntie Joan's grave and placed some flowers on it. Then Dad asked us to follow him and we went to a remote corner of the churchyard that was always shaded. Here you really felt you were among the dead. We stopped at a grave and Dad asked Joan to read the inscription on the headstone. Covered with moss it was very hard to make out. Finally Joan said, "It says _'She went about doing good.' _"

"What was her name?"

"It doesn't say."

"When did she live?"

"Well, a long time ago I think, but we can't know."

"Joan and James, I do not know what will happen when I die. I do know that while I am alive I can do no better than this woman did. At times I come here to remind myself of that."

I remember that we drove back to the house that afternoon without speaking. It was one of those times when words would have been a profane interruption to our thoughts.

Back in the present with Luk on the phone in Connecticut it was not at all difficult to know what he was saying. I had never heard it called Doing Truth, but I had experienced it many times.

"Luk, I do know exactly what you are talking about. I surely do."


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. There may be spoilers for Season Six.**

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Emily's coming to Plymouth had been seamless. She had found a flat only a few streets away from the house where I had a room. Beginning as a supply teacher in Pomphlett Primary school, a permanent position opened when one of the teachers left due to her husband's transfer to Manchester. Our schedules kept us from being together as much as we would have liked but it was so good being in the same town. Did I say town? Plymouth is actually a small city, but definitely not London. Being near the sea is always good. There were more cultural affairs than we had time to attend. We were both very busy but Plymouth did not have the frenetic pace that surrounded one in London.

Taking a picnic to The Hoe and relaxing on the grass had become a favorite day-off time together. Unfortunately the cool damp weather of late fall ushered us indoors for these times. But indoors was good. Cuddling on Emily's sofa after some take-away Chinese food was so good in the rare times we could do that. I often fell asleep due to my hideous on-call schedule.

My dad had said we would come to new understandings, but that comes from ongoing conversations. The times Emily and I could be together we were usually mentally spent. Her being a first-year teacher challenged her every day with all the demands accompanying that. She was finding it quite difficult and she was learning that the differences between the US and England were just a tad more than English spoken properly - or improperly as the case may be. It goes without saying that my medical program kept me drained physically and mentally. It was inevitable this would take its toll.

It was a Friday evening and I was late bringing supper. Emily was off for four days but I was not unfortunately. I used my key and entering the apartment I knew that things were not as they should be.

"James, where have you been? I wish you had been here before now."

Dishes were in the sink. Clothing was lying about and the bed was unmade. There were her blue pants and bra on the floor of the shower. Emily's hair was unkempt and I think she had been crying. Here eyes were awfully red. None of this was like her.

We moved some dishes and sat at her table for some below-average fish and chips. Even the emotional atmosphere shared the disheveled state of the flat. I had to break the silence.

"So a bit of a break from school. That will be good. How was your week Sweetheart?"

"Oh James, I am a failure, a complete failure. Why do I even try? I cannot teach these children. Today I think I just lost control of the class. I honestly wonder if I should be a teacher."

"Emily, it can't be that bad. A few days off and you'll be fine."

"No James I will not be fine. Damn James, _I will not be fine!_ And what about us? Do you like this schedule we keep? We never see each other and when we do you fall asleep. Maybe your dad was right. Being together more may be telling us we are not right for each other. I am just so confused and I don't like it. It is unlike me."

It hadn't helped that she was just getting over a terrible cold that had hung on for two weeks. No doubt she caught it from one of her germ-ladened students. A shadow of doubt had covered her entire being. My response did not help. I know now what my dad must have experienced often. I was at a total loss for words. My hesitation was fatal to our night.

"James, why don't you say something. Is your silence an assent to our failure? Oh I wish I had never come to England."

"No Emily. Don't say that. We are not a failure! This will pass. You can talk with Mum. I am sure she can advise you on your teaching. I don't know, but could you possibly be getting your period?"

I immediately regretted that last statement. How could I be so stupid? Her response was instant and cutting.

"Just perfect James. It's my hormones and all can be solved with a bit of time and a chat with your miracle Mum. Maybe an aspirin and a night's sleep will make it all better. If not I can call the doctor in the morning. Well, don't count on it Dr. Ellingham."

At that point my mobile rang and bugger if it was not an emergency that I would have to attend to.

"Emily, I am sorry for that stupid comment. I am needed at hospital as soon as I can get there. I am truly sorry. Get some sleep and I will call you in the morning. Perhaps I can get away and come over. We will work through this, OK? We will."

With that I left the apartment with no confidence that I had said anything that didn't make the situation worse. I stepped out into a cold rain that perfectly defined all that had just happened. A cold icy rain had come into what seemed so perfect and so good. I was feeling helpless to do anything about it.

I walked two streets where I could get a taxi. As we moved through the morass of London traffic I became more and more distraught. Upon arriving at hospital I entered and was headed down a hall when my eye caught an elderly couple sitting together holding hands.

"What are you doing?" I asked myself. "Emily needs you and you have left her alone. Have you got corn flakes for brains?" From some unknown quarter something my dad had told me once came to mind. He told me the biggest mistake he ever made was not going to London to bring Mum back to Portwenn.

I reversed my field, ran back outside and actually found the same taxi who had just dropped me off. "I need you to take me back to the other side of the park where you picked me up."

"Mate, it's all a fare to me. But I can tell you after I drop you, I'm finished for the night. This bloody weather has won the match."

I phoned the department where I was expected. With no explanation attempted, I simply said that there was no way I could make it. I would have to deal with the repercussions later.

"Damn, the line is busy," I said to myself as I tried Emily's mobile. I attempted to leave a message, "Emily, I hope you receive this. I want you to know I am on my way back. The traffic is a mess but I am coming."

James leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. He arose and put on his topcoat after wrapping the tartan scarf I had given him around his neck. With a quick "I love you Emily. I will talk with you in the morning." he was out the door and down the stairs.

I thought the day could not possibly get worse and it just had. The row was terrible and then James leaves without hardly another word. I had to call my mom. Between sobs I was able to tell her the whole rotten mess.

"Emily. Emily. Slow down and calm down. Let's talk about this. I thought something terrible had happened. Maybe you or James had been injured or suffered a medical emergency."

"Mom, this is terrible. It is the worst!

"No Love, this is far from the worst. But I do understand you are terribly confused and upset. I really do understand. I am truly sorry Sweetheart. You probably are still weak as a kitten from that bad cold."

"I feel so alone. James left me to go to the hospital. Why can't you be here?"

As I looked toward the kitchen sink I saw my life right now. There was a roach crawling over unrinsed dishes. Then my mom really capped it off.

"I'm curious Emily. With everything else, is it that time of the month?"

"Mom, how could you? That's what my insensitive fiance asked. Can you believe it?"

"James blew it, obviously, but I am your mother. Are you?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Sweetheart, I won't say this is nothing. I won't say you don't feel like you are under the flush. I will say that you will come out of this and be OK on the other side of it. Tell me about your school situation."

So far I was not feeling better. Our talks always helped me but whatever I hoped for was not happening. But I did not want to be alone so I kept her on the line. Suddenly there was a knocking on the door.

"Mom, just a minute. Don't hang up. Someone is at the door."

"Yes, who is it?"

"Emily, it's me, James. Please let me come in."

"James, what are you doing here? You have a key. I am on the phone with my mother." I opened the door.

"Emily, can I come in? I did not want to presume."

"Well, yes I suppose so. Why aren't you at the hospital. Wait, let me ring off with Mom."

"Mom. I can't believe this. James just arrived. I don't know what's going on. He is supposed to be at the hospital and now he is back here. I will call you back."

Then my mother said, "Emily, whatever happens, you bite your tongue. OK? You bite your tongue."


	19. Chapter 19

**_CHAPTER NINETEEN REMEMBRANCE_**

**_The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers._**

**_Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated._**

**_CHAPTER NINETEEN_**

Slowly I opened my eyes to a room with daylight coming through the shades. Why am I on the sofa? I looked around and there was James's topcoat over the wooden chair. The flat was straight and the kitchen was clean. I began to recall the night, but my need for the loo overrode all of that. I peeked in and James was asleep on my bed. I attempted to attend to matters as quietly as possible so as not to disturb him.

Walking back into the kitchen I decided to put water on for tea. Then it hit me. I had told Mom I would call her back. Without a thought as to the time I dialed her number.

"Emily, is that you? Are you alright?" There was anxiousness in her gravelly voice. I quickly quelled any fears and told her that things had settled considerably after James returned. I spilled some water so took a paper towel and wiped it. I opened the bin to toss it and there it was on top. A dead roach.

"The roach is dead Mom._ The roach is dead!"_

"Well, good. I don't like the live ones. Emily, what in the world are you going on about?"

"James did not attend to the emergency at the hospital. He came back here. He brushed my hair."

"Well that certainly clarifies everything. So the monsters of last night have been slain?"

"Oh no Mom, I wouldn't say that. They just do not seem as big this morning."

"Tell you what Emily. You call me after lunch and give me a full report. And I was thinking after you called last night. Why don't you go visit your _mémé_ and _pépé_

for a couple of days and take James with you? After lunch Emily. Call me after lunch. Just to orient you, this is_ waaaay before breakfast_."

We rang off and I noted the time. "Oh my gosh," I thought. "It is three in the morning at home." Maybe I shouldn't call and apologize just now.

I decided to make us some breakfast. Maybe look in on James first. I quietly entered the room and lay down on top of the covers looking at his peaceful face. My mind and heart traveled to last night.

I was so confused when he returned. I asked him why since he was needed at the hospital.

He said, "Emily, I told them I could not make it. I need to be here with you. I will not leave tonight. You may not even want me here, but I am here. I will sleep on the sofa, but you will not be alone tonight."

What could I do but thank him, but it did trouble me. I told him he needed to do his job and I would be fine. I actually told him he should go back to the hospital. He probably thought I did not want him with me. I did not want him to feel he had to neglect his duty because of me or worse get censured for what he had done.

"Emily, my duty goes beyond my job. I am where I need to be and want to be and you are stuck with me for the night."

At that point James said he thought I would feel better with a hot shower. So that is what I did. I took a bit of time under the hot water trying to wash away this horrible day. Finishing up I put on my pale blue flannel pyjamas, comfy on this cold night. When I went back with James, he was sitting on the sofa.

He asked me to bring my brush and so I sat with my back to him. He began to run the brush through my hair. It was something I so enjoyed him doing. It was always so relaxing. I suppose tonight he knew I really needed it. I felt each stroke as it coursed over my scalp and down my long hair. He continued long after the tangles were gone. He brushed and he brushed and he brushed. The shower had washed the outside but now my tears began to wash the inside. At one point James lifted my hair and kissed me gently on my neck just below my right ear. And then he continued to brush. I heard him sniff. Was it possible he was crying? And he stroked my hair with the brush, over and over and over.

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Talk would come later. Maybe much later. Now I just wanted Emily to relax and go to sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day. Brushing her hair was such a pleasure. I watched as the brush slowly moved through her beautiful auburn hair. Gradually the tangles gave way and I continued to brush the wet and soft hair that adorned the woman I loved more than life itself. The topography of love is appreciation of the most subtle and small things that are a part of a person you truly care for. Her beautiful tiny ears. The flow of her neck as it moves into the soft pyjamas. The small mole just below her right ear. I lifted her hair and kissed that mole as I often do. Funny how one small mole can represent the whole of a person. My mum has a mole on her collar bone. If it were to be removed I think I would require a DNA test to verify her identity.

I realized that as I brushed her hair Emily was silently weeping. I would not violate her thoughts with words. Suddenly I realized I had tears in my own eyes.

I could not explain it, but neither could I prevent them from coming. It reminds me of the day Emily had a cry and I asked her what was wrong. She said that she had no idea. Well here I was crying with her and I could not explain it.

I laid the brush down and pulled her close to me. I gently and quietly sang,

_If ever I would leave you_

_It wouldn't be in summer._

_Seeing you in summer I never would go._

_Your hair streaked with sun-light,_

_Your lips red as flame,_

_Your face with a lustre_

_that puts gold to shame!_

_But if I'd ever leave you,_

_It couldn't be in autumn._

_How I'd leave in autumn I never will know._

_I've seen how you sparkle_

_When fall nips the air._

_I know you in autumn_

_And I must be there._

_And could I leave you_

_running merrily through the snow?_

_Or on a wintry evening_

_when you catch the fire's glow?_

_If ever I would leave you,_

_How could it be in spring-time?_

_Knowing how in spring I'm bewitched by you so?_

_Oh, no! not in spring-time!_

_Summer, winter or fall!_

_No, never could I leave you at all!*_

It was not I who succumbed to the day this night. Emily was all but asleep and after a few minutes was breathing deeply. After awhile I laid her back onto a pillow on the sofa and covered her with two blankets. She did respond to my goodnight kiss but barely. I spent a bit of time straightening and cleaning, especially in the kitchen, and then I retired to her bed.

Before sleeping I called my close friend and colleague Arthur**. He was just coming off a three day arduous rotation.

"Artie I hate asking you to do this but I need to do it for Emily's sake. It is important."

"Hey James, glad to do it. We are bound to find time to sleep sometime in this life. Emily needs you. Be back Tuesday. I can't do two jobs."

"I owe you one mate."

"James, your account is always paid in full. I've got a break and can catch some sleep. See you next week."

With that I laid down on a pillow that had the scent of my Emily on it. If it were not simply the presence of her scent... No, better not go there. My weariness was not that far behind Emily's and so I quickly slipped into a very peaceful an deep sleep

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James opened his eyes and looked at me. He is always immediately chipper and he said, "Good morning Emily. You're looking peaceful this morning."

I felt cozy next to him and I thanked him. "Thank you for coming back last night. It means a lot to me James. I slept so well after you put me to sleep. I have been up a bit and thought I would make us some breakfast. Oh, and I spoke with Mom. She thought it would be good if I went to visit my grandparents in Bruges for a couple of days. I wish you could go with me."

"I would love to go. When do we leave?"

"Wait James. You have a rota to attend to."

"No. I do not. Arthur said he would cover it so we can be together."

"But how could you know about Bruges? I didn't even know!"

"Is wasn't about a trip Emily. It is about being with you while you are off work."

With that comment I took his head in my hands and placed a kiss on him that I do not think he will soon forget.

When he came up for air he said, "You remember what you told me on that cliff ledge when we were kids. You said you were going to marry me. Don't ever think I am going to let you off the hook."

"Do not worry about that James Henry Ellingham. I will marry you, but first I will make us breakfast."

"I hope you have some of the good Tiptree Marmalade."

"There will always be marmalade for you my Paddington Bear."

"Always?"

"Yes James, _Always_!"

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*_If Ever I Would Leave You_ From the musical _Camelot_ by Jay Lerner. One might wonder how James knows alike this. Having taken lessons from Roger Fenn James was quite adept at playing the guitar. He had asked Roger to teach him some really good songs he could sing to Emily. There was _You Are So Beautiful_ by Ray Charles and _You are the_ _Sunshine of My Life_. But tonight this one from an old American musical seemed to say what was on his heart.

**"Arthur" is Arthur Couch who was the boy James bloodied on the playground when he tripped his sister in primary school. They became quite close friends and in this chapter you can see they are colleagues in medical school. So...wanna hear that story?


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. **

**While Emily and James travel to Belgium to visit her grandparents we will see how James and Arthur Couch became good friends.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

The pavement was quite treacherous as I made my way back to my dwelling to pack for our trip. Emily's grandmother was very happy that we could make a quick visit. It would take us five hours on the train and we could simply rest. Taking the car would be tense and considering the weather, quite unsafe. Fortunately the Tube station was close to Emily's and after that we would be under cover. We were well on our way by midday. As we settled into our seats and were on the long stretch from London to Belgium, Emily dozed and I simply watched the bleak winter countryside. I thought of Artie - back at hospital working his arse off so I could do this. Could he be the kid I once had truly detested? Now he was my best mate, hands down. Watching barren fields and stone walls passing I let my mind wander.

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It takes 80 calories per gram of energy to melt ice. The sun accomplishes that quite efficiently. Little known is the concept of pressure thawing. It is what happens when an ice screw under pressure, such as supporting a 180 pound human, begins to loosen. It is called pressure melting and is the reason we find ourselves in a dire predicament.

We were on a winter climbing expedition at the Salamander Gully, not far from the Bridge of Orchy in Argyll and Bute, Scotland. The "we" are Arthur Couch, Tristan Kinghorn and myself, James MacEllingham, to be right Scottish about it. Salamander Gully is a Grade III climb that includes vertical ice. While we know that a rock climber does not an ice climber make, we had done this once before in Ireland and were well equipped.

I was barely conscious hanging upside down on an ice face. My helmet had cracked and my left shoulder hurt terribly. Obviously the ice screw supporting me had pulled out and I had fallen some ten meters and hit an outcropping of ice very hard. I remember wondering how long a person can hang upside down before they die.

We were eventually assisted by a search and rescue team and were able to get down. That was easier said than done. It took Artie and Tristan several hours to get me to an area where we could bivouac for the night. We hoped the area was stable as it was dark when we settled at the base of the vertical ice. It was cold and miserable and I was fairly certain I had a fracture and probably a concussion. It was dark again the next day when under our own handicapped effort and the help of three S and R climbers we were able to get back to the village. The next morning I went to hospital in Glasgow with my hurting head and fractured and wrenched shoulder.

On the train back to Cornwall I told Arthur we had to get out of this saving each other business. His response, "James, where's the fun in that?" Tristan added that he understood there were some very good trails on the coast of Wales and we might enjoy that come July.

Why is this in my story of Arthur and our friendship? Well, you need to know that over time we three were inseparable. It really was _one for all and all for one._ We had many such adventures together including other winter climbs. It didn't have to be exciting. We thoroughly enjoyed being three blokes with three pints.

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So there we were, sitting, facing each other. We had already been assigned a week's detention for fighting. My father insisted that we sit facing each other for at least thirty minutes of that time every day. We were two boys who detested each other. We sat in total silence for two days. Well into the third period in hell Arthur spoke.

"James, I don't know why I hurt your sister. I regret it and I am sorry."

This was not good. Sometimes hate feels good and you do not want it to go away. I could think he really didn't mean it, but it sounded like he meant it and his face said that he was sincere. I suppose keeping hatred is like a snake swallowing his own tail. Eventually the snake has destroyed himself.

"Arthur, why? Why do you bully kids? You can't just say you don't know why."

"I guess I want people to see me. No one pays any attention to me, James. I do not have one friend."

"You are not around much, are you? You miss a lot of school."

"My dad makes me go out on the boat with him. Says it will keep him from having to pay a helper. Don't get me wrong, James. My dad is a good man. He works hard. It has been really bad since Mum died. Dad drinks a lot at night and when he does that, he is not himself. Really bad actually. And yeah, I miss a lot of school. I am failing my maths right now."

There it was. I so fought against my ill will falling away. But one can only override an automatic pilot so long. The ship will eventually right itself. And then I said it. The voice was mine, but the words were Mum's. "Arthur, I could help you with your maths if you would like."

For the next two days of detention we talked a good bit. We did spend some time on school work and agreed he would come to the house and we would study together. Arthur became a person hard to hate. We actually had some laughs together.

Then there was the night when someone was throwing pebbles at my window.

I looked out and it was Arthur who asked me if he could come in. I let him in and he was holding his face. He had a horrible bleeding bruise on his left cheek.

Dad had heard the movement downstairs and came to see what it was. As he entered he saw Arthur and inquired as to what had happened.

"I fell at home and hit a table. Can you fix it a bit Dr. Ellingham?"

"Don't lie to me Arthur! This was done by a fist. Someone struck you. Who did this?"

"I don't want to get him in trouble. He was drunk and he didn't mean it."

"Who? Who are you talking about. Who did this?"

"My dad. When he gets drunk he changes and is mean. It wasn't so bad before Mum died, but now it is almost every night."

"Arthur, by law I must report this. Let's treat this in my surgery and somehow we will sort it."

My mum had slipped in and overheard the conversation and added to it. "Martin, when you've finished please come back here. Arthur, you may spend the night with James. As Dr. Ellingham has sad, we will find some solutions here."

Mr. Couch resisted any help, but it is amazing how an alternative to spending time in Her Majesty's fine penal facilities looked good to him. My dad's Aunt Ruth agreed to work with Arthur's dad. She was never intimidated by burly criminals. Mr. Couch's brash manner and large frame did not phase her.

So actually our home became a place where from time to time kids who needed a haven from whatever storms assailed them, found their way here. Arthur stayed with me a lot. It was not because he had to. We came to enjoy being together. He was almost like a brother. Sometimes I actually went out with him and his dad for a day of work on their boat. Once I heard Arthur ask my mum why we let all and sundry stay over and I heard her reply, "Well, let's just say we understand. We do understand."

Jenifer Penrose was a friend of my sister. She lived with her elderly aunt because for some reason, unknown to me, her parents sent her here. When her aunt died and she faced going to live with her parents which, again the reason unknown to me, she truly feared. Well she came to live with us for several years and it was as if Joan and I had another sibling. It gave great meaning to, "_The more the merrier._" At this point my parents are assisting her in attending the university.

For Mum and Dad helping was the norm, not the exception. I simply cannot imagine having a better home than I have had.

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One winter day Artie received his acceptance into medical studies. I was a bit anxious, but three days later I received my own confirmation letter.

"James this is just capital. You know we could go back and climb Salamander Gully to celebrate."

"Yes, we could Artie. Yes, by gosh we could. We could also go to the pub and have a pint."

"OK, a pint it is. And you're buying."

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I realized the train was slowing and we would soon arrive where we would change for the train to Bruges. I kissed Emily on the forehead. As she opened her eyes I told her, "Time to change trains my Love."

"Oh my. I slept hard. Sorry I am not very good company."

"No worry. I was simply lost in my thoughts."

"Won't be long now and we'll be in Bruges. I can't wait for you to meet my

_Mémé_ and _Pépé_. More than that, I can't wait for them to meet you."


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

It was quite dark when we arrived in Bruges. Taking a taxi from the station it was almost eight o'clock when we found Number Three Verversdijk. It was a tall narrow house on a canal, visible only because a street lamp reflected in the dark water.

Emily's grandparents were effusive in greeting us. I was cautious and shook hands with her grandfather. Her _Mémé_ would not settle for that and gave me three kisses on the cheek. I awkwardly returned the greeting. "So you are James. We are so pleased you have come. Luk has been speaking of you for some time. Welcome. Welcome.

Please, let's go to the dining room. We have supper prepared."

We left our bags in the entry hall along with our coats and entered a very cozy warm house. Thankfully Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs spoke English very well. We enjoyed a lovely supper of _waterzooi_, a rich stew of chicken, cream and vegetables. Now our insides felt the warmth of this wonderful home.

It was toward the end of the meal when Mr. Jacobs offered me a beer. "James, I have some St. Bernardus 12. Would you like a glass?"

"Of course, thank you. I don't believe I have ever drunk that one."

"You are in for a rare treat. People think we are known for our chocolate in Belgium and the _Manneken Pis_ in Brussels. Nothing compares with Belgium beer. We have more varieties per capita than any other country. A minor point of pride I suppose, but one we are proud of nonetheless. With St. Bernardus 12 I believe I can convert the ardent non drinker. I will bring four glasses."

Enjoying this wonderful brew I had to comment. "I do enjoy the Belgiums when it comes to beer, but this is special. You have a convert in me!"

Mrs. Jacobs interrupted, "Florian, enough talk of beer. I want to know what is going on with you two. Tell us about life in England."

It was Emily who chimed in, "Wet and cold. And then more went and cold. Mom suggested we get away and I have to say it is cold here but not like the southern coast where we live."

We spent the evening in the sitting room telling them about our life and work in Plymouth. We did not even hint at the difficulties of the past few days. Emily's Mémé wanted to know of wedding plans.

Emily was the one to answer this, "Oh, _Mémé_, we have been so busy. Hardly time to think. It will be in summer after we are out of school in July. It will be in Portwenn and of course Dad will perform the ceremony. I know Mom and Louisa have been talking some but Mom and I haven't really discussed the specifics yet. I am sure that will happen soon. You and Pépé will come for the wedding, won't you?"

"Of course we will my child. Of course we will! And you and James must come to Bruges and make this your home away from all your activities. I will ask you in return, You will come and visit, won't you?

James was the one to answer her. "Yes, Mrs. Jacobs, we will. You are the closest family Emily has here. We will look forward to being here, frequently I hope."

"James I know we have only just met, but if we are family, would you please call me _Mémé_? I would like that."

"That is most kind. Thank you _Mémé_. Of course I will."

"You know I am sorry you cannot spend more time this visit. You must return in the spring. It is beautiful here then. I would like to show you the art museums but they are closed tomorrow. I am a volunteer docent at the Groeningemuseum. But one thing I must insist. I will call my good friend Mrs. DeVolder. She makes chocolate and also does beautiful lace work. Most of the shops are closed, it being winter, but I told her of your coming and she wants to meet you. You will see that our chocolate rivals our beer."

It was Mr. Jacob's who broke in, "Hanne, it is a bit late and these two have to be weary from their travels."

"Of course. We will talk more tomorrow. Let me show you your room, James. You will be glad for a goose down duvet tonight."

I was not aware of the import of that comment until I realized my room was the loft, an unheated room.

The next morning I quickly went down into the warmth. We spent a leisurely morning visiting with the Jacobs. We decided to take a walk. There was a chill in the air but it was tolerable and Emily wanted me to see this town that she had known growing up in her visits here. It is an enchanting place with the old houses and canals. In the summer it is a tourist mecca but this morning it is very quiet and shops are all closed.

We passed The Church of our Lady and decide to enter and sit for awhile. It was a beautiful and peaceful atmosphere and it was perfect for sitting and letting the place have its way with you. Mass was being celebrated but we simply sat at the back and did not participate. It reminds one that in all of the busyness with which we are occupied, some invisible means of support hopefully underpins what we are about.

We made our way to a place where there were three ancient windmills in front of us. The nearness of the canal made it colder, but we cuddled on a bench and talked for a bit.

I began, "Emily, I love you more than you can imagine. I have to tell you that our problems are not the ones that flooded over us last week. We will face problems bigger than those. We will take care of each other and deal with whatever comes our way."

"James, something is really troubling me. I feel terrible about the rubbish comment I made about your mother. You know I didn't mean it. I have so much respect for her."

"Emily, don't worry about it. You were very emotional and feeling very insecure Friday night. We're all vulnerable when we have those feelings. I know Mum loves you like a daughter. She would always be there to help if you need her, but I don't think she would be pushy."

"Need her? I should say I need her. She has already been a great help. You know I will be on the phone with her next week."

"Why don't we find a week-end when we can invite them to come to Plymouth?

I don't see how we can get away to Portwenn. Dad and I can always have conversation and you and Mum can talk of teaching and wedding. I would like Joan to come but she is so wrapped up in finishing her final year before veterinary school that I doubt she could find the time."

"Well James, our moms have been talking about our wedding. Mom and Dad want to spend a month in Portwenn. You know how much they love being there and they are so close to your parents. But speaking of our wedding I have an idea. I think we should get married on your birthday. I cannot think of a better gift, can you?"

"My dad said when it comes to the wedding I should listen and not speak. But I will say this. It would be the perfect gift. And I do look forward to the unwrapping."

"Oh, you naughty boy. Won't that be fun?" And with that she kissed me like she meant it. And she did, I do believe."

And then she said, "But James there is now something that must be dealt with."

"What Emily? What is wrong?"

"I am really cold. My bum may be frozen to this bench. Can we go visit Mémé's friend now? A cup of coffee would really taste good."

With that we walked briskly to Mrs. DeVolder's. It was quite a distance, probably over a mile.

We tapped on the shop door. A lovely smile greeted us and we felt instantly welcome. "Henne said you would be coming. I am so pleased. My Niels died in October and it gets lonely here. I know you would like something hot to drink."

Mrs. DeVolder let us through the shop with its display cases full of her handmade chocolates. We entered her small sitting room and were seated on a love seat in front of a table with what had to be pictures of her family on it. She excused herself and soon entered with a coffee service on a beautiful wooden tray.

Beside it was a plate of chocolates.

"Emily, I remember when you would visit your grandmother as a young child.

You are so beautiful now and you are to be married. But, let me pour and we can talk of such things. How do you take your coffee?"

As we sat comfortably and drank the delicious coffee, we shared something of our lives with Mrs. DeVolder, and of course as much of wedding plans as we had. Actually all we had was a possible date. She told us of her husband, who had died suddenly in the autumn, and her two married children. She proudly told us of her three grandchildren. It was obvious she longed for company and we were enjoying being with her. It had the comfort of spending time with a favorite aunt although we had just met.

"Alright, James I know you have been looking at the chocolates. I want you to try them and tell me what you think you are tasting. Here, share this one...What do you think."

"I'm not sure. I know the flavor but..."

"It is tarragon. There can be many fillings for pralines. Try this."

"Wow, that is hot. Is it wasabi?"

"Yes it is. Here, Emily you will like this one, it is blueberry."

"Oh, Mrs. DeVolder, they are so wonderful. Thank you."

With that she brought out a small flat package wrapped in white tissue and handed it to Emily. "I would like to be the first to give you a gift for your new home together."

Emily thanked her and opened the gift. It was an exquisite lace creation probably 24 inches across. We were both taken aback that she would give us something this exquisite.

"I don't know what to say. I have never held anything this fine in my hands. James, look closely at this and hold it. It is simply beautiful. Mrs. DeVolder, I do not think words can express how I feel."

"I am pleased that you like it. My mother and my grandmother were lacemakers and they taught me. Thankfully my youngest daughter allowed me to teach her so perhaps the family tradition will continue. Have you ever seen lace being made?"

"When I was a little girl visiting _Mémé_ we would see ladies at tables on the pavement in front of their houses making lace, but I never paid much attention."

"I am working on a new piece. Would you like to see how it is made?"

Naturally we were interested and she showed us to a smaller room where there was her work table. She sat behind it and began moving small pegs attached to threads. She explained they are called bobbins and there must have been thirty or forty of them. Her hands moved very methodically and quickly as the bobbins were lifted and moved, lifted and moved. It was a smooth and almost poetic motion as her hands moved the bobbins. If practice makes perfect it seems we were watching perfection in movement and creation.

"There are so many strands and bobbins," Emily noted. "How can you ever do this without making mistakes?"

"I make mistakes. If you attempted to go back and undo every misthrow of a bobbin you would never make progress. When you see the whole piece, mistakes are never visible. I will never forget teaching a class of Japanese ladies at The Lace Museum. There is something in their culture that won't allow them a mistake in creating something like this. They were constantly wanting to move a thrown bobbin to its original position and correct it. I could never convince them that it was not necessary and that it was counterproductive. It was a frustrating day for all concerned.

"So, that is how it is done. Why don't we go back to the sitting room?"

Emily politely said that we should be returning soon. We did sit for a few minutes with coffee and chocolates. I could not keep my hands off of the chocolates. Mrs. DeVolder would have it no other way than that we would take a box of pralines back with us.

"Before you leave, I want to tell you something, James and Emily. Niels and I had a very good marriage. We had our problems but we made a good home. Please remember this." She pointed to a quite large framed lace creation. _"It does not have to be perfect to be beautiful."_

As we donned our coats and held our gifts she touched our hands and said,

"Please remember what I have told you. And when you are in Bruges again I would be so pleased if you will come and see me."

"Oh yes, Mrs. DeVolder, we will. You can be certain, we will."

As we walked back we were quiet, each with our own thoughts which had to be the same. _It does not have to be perfect to be beautiful._


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. **

**Have faith. There will be a wedding but there are things you would want to know I think before we jump to the altar. So sit back and enjoy the journey.**

**Louisa and Natalie have not had their fill of planning yet.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

"James, why are stopping here? This is just a pub out in the middle of nowhere. I am keen on getting to Portwenn."

We had left Plymouth early Saturday morning, looking forward to three days off.

I had to show Emily the famous Coach and Four; well at least famous to our family.

So I pulled up beside the pub and told Emily she would have to trust me. We went in and a young woman was sitting on one of the stools. She looked at us and exclaimed, "Well, you two are out a bit early. Want something to drink?"

"We might. Just wanted to show the pub to my friend. Is the plaque still on the wall?"

"What plaque? We have every manner of things hanging on these walls. This place was my granddad's. Been here over 50 years."

"We'll look around a bit. Why not bring us a couple of half pints? No, on second thought tea sounds good. A pot of tea please."

I looked around where I remember the plaque being and was not long in finding it. "Alright, Sweetheart, read this."

Emily began to mouth the words, "_James Henry Ellingham was born in this pub 14 July 2,013. _James, you mean this is it? This is the place you told me you were born?"

"Mum told me her water broke after the car accident and when they arrived here she went into labor. Here I am Love - the rest is history."

The young woman interrupted as she brought our tea. "I heard what you said. Are you really the baby that was born here? My granddad told me all about that. I wish he was here to meet you. This is on the house. Please sit down for a bit."

"Thank you. What is your name?"

"It's Molly. Molly Flannigan."

"Molly, please sit with us. I want to hear the story your grandfather told you. Let me pour you a cup too."

An hour or so later we were back on the road having had a delightful visit with Molly.

"James, that was amazing. Molly's granddad didn't seem to have too high an opinion of your dad. I've never seen him as a rude grouch."

"Emily, Dad has never suffered fools. I have seen him quite short-tempered.

Frankly I do think his rough edges have smoothed over the years. I think we both know Mum did a lot of that smoothing."

"Alright, one more stop before we get to town. I want to drop by High Trees and see Aunt Ruth and my friend Judith. Thanks for letting me have a little part in our planning. She and Matthew providing the music will be the perfect touch."

"Of course. They are not simply our wedding musicians, but dear friends who want to make our day complete. But James, I do think I want to enter to the organ playing Psalm 19 by Marcello and I want us to walk out to Handel's Hornpipe from Water Music. I hope you are OK with a bit of majesty."

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I must have been 16 when Aunt Ruth moved from her house in town and into High Trees. For her age she was quite agile and her mind was still very sharp. She was not one to mix a lot but when Judith Hainsworth moved in she and Aunt Ruth found each other and developed a friendship. They were often together when I visited and ultimately Judith became a person I really enjoyed being with. Music was a common love we shared, but she was reluctant to speak much of it. Finally, I think I was in the middle of my A-Levels, I decided to try and break through a shell she had built around herself.

"Oh, James, why have you brought this? I have told you I do not intend to play again. You know I have not picked up the flute since Cecil died."

Judith Hainsworth had been the principle flutist for the Hallé Orchestra in Manchester for many years. She met her husband, a cellist, in 1985 which was the year both of them joined The Hallé. Their journey of love and music had been the stuff of love stories from time immemorial. Judith had been one who helped break the male dominance in English orchestras. By the time she left almost half of the players in The Hallé were women.

After Cecil died Judith's daughter decided it would be good if her mother would move closer to her and High Trees was a very fine facility. Judith had no complaint about the place, but she had a depth of loneliness that would not go away. She missed her husband. She made a few friends, but they were not close. Actually Ruth Elllingham was the only person she spent much time with.

"Judith, at least look at this. It is an arrangement for guitar and flute of Shubert's _Stänchen_. It is simply beautiful. Please play it with me. It would be such an honor if your would."

"James, you know your visits mean so much to me. I never thought a 17 year old would want to be friends with an old lady like me. I want to refuse you but I cannot and will not. I will assemble my flute. As I recall the key is D Minor."

That afternoon will always be a highlight in my life. How did we do it? It was if we were in another dimension simply lost in the movement of this beautiful creation.

There were tears in our eyes when we finished and we both knew this was a special day. She reached out her hand and I took it.

Suddenly there was applause outside her door. We had had an audience.

And there was music now at High Trees that did not exist before. Mr. Greenlee, we learned, was a cellist and for the Christmas party he joined us along with Matthew Fenn. We even asked Matthew's dad to come and play the bass guitar for the upbeat pieces. Judith would always miss her sweet Cecil, but she had music back in her life.

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Upon arriving at High Trees we found Aunt Ruth sitting in the lounge having tea. She had to do a double take upon seeing us as we were showing up unannounced. Recognition brought a smile and she stood to greet us.

"Emily, you look wonderful. James, you look, well you look like you could use more rest. This is a surprise. I suppose you are down to work on wedding plans. It won't be long now."

"Hello, Aunt Ruth. You are the one who looks wonderful. We are on our way into town and wanted to stop by for a minute."

"Well, don't leave before you arrive. Sit down and at least have a cuppa. Tell me all about what is going on with you two. Excuse me. Madeline, would you please bring another pot and some cups for our table? There, now you have to stay a bit."

We brought Ruth up on life in Plymouth. The school term was winding down for both of us. She was most anxious for me to fill her in on my studies and delighted to know that I had made a final decision to specialize in Child and Adolescent Psychiatry. She had been encouraging me in that direction for a good while.

"Take care of the children, James," she would always say. "I always wonder how the lives of many of my patients in prison would have been different if proper attention had only been given them in childhood."

That comment always led me to thinking about my father. What if he had experienced a loving home or what if someone had intervened to help him with the horror he had to endure? My conclusion is always the same. If that had happened, I probably wouldn't be here. It has caused me to look at events in life with a guarded opinion. When people want to draw conclusions I nearly always want to say, "Well, it is too soon to know."

As we finished our tea Ruth asked, "You are going to see Judith before you leave, right?"

"Of course, Aunt Ruth. You do know she and Matthew Fenn are going to provide music at the wedding. We'll go see her and come back by before we go into town."

We knocked on Judith's door and I called her name. She opened the door and bright sunshine greeted us and a gentle breeze from the open window. "James, this is a surprise. Please come in and you must be Emily. Oh this is just delightful."

She gave us each a warm hug and we sat down surrounded by the peace that she had created in this small apartment. Beauty followed wherever she went even in the way she arranged her furniture down to the small floral arrangement on a table.

"Judith, I hope you are well. I know you were quite ill in February."

"When you're old you catch everything that flys by. Gratefully, I am well and strong again. I have to be. Have to be ready for your grand day. Matthew was here last week and we decided on some pieces. Thank you for giving us some latitude in the music. I promise it will not be too heavy. It will be serious with a bit of whimsy thrown in."

We talked awhile but really could not stay. Judith was disappointed but understood our need to get on into town. "Emily, please come for a visit. I want to get to know the woman who had the sense to grab this good man. You two get on but please don't stay away. I miss our visits James."

We were in the village and headed for White Rose House when I spotted my granddad working in his garden. I stopped and called him. "Emily, we have to stop for a minute."

"Hello Granddad. How are you?"

"Fine Son, fine. Just spending time with the flowers. I suppose you are just down for the week-end."

"Right you are. Trying to finish up this term at school. You remember Emily?"

"James, of course. One does not forget an unforgettable person. Hello Dear. So good to see you two."

"Granddad, what did you do to your hand?"

"Oh, a careless slip with a chisel repairing one of the life boats. You know I help keep their equipment in good order. When I returned here it seemed to me to be payback time and being around those kids keeps me young."

"We've got to get on to the house. When will we see you?"

"My kind daughter invited me for supper tonight, so I'll be over around half six."

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"Natalie, I cannot imagine why the children haven't arrived yet. I suppose they slept in and are racing straight from Plymouth to our doorstep. I have been expecting them for a good bit."

"Well, Louisa go over all the things we have talked about. I think we have taken all of Emily's concerns and ideas and put them in the picture in some fashion. Can you believe in two weeks we will be together?"

"I heard a car drive up. I'll call you Monday and fill you in on everything."

With that Martin came in with James and Emily following. "Louisa, look who showed up on the doorstep!"


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

Emily and Mum were sequestered doing wedding planning. Joan and I were sitting over tea after breakfast in the kitchen and I wanted to take a walk with my sister. "Joan, come on, get your light pack and some water. Let's go walk the cliffs."

Thirty minutes later we were well above our house and Portwenn with our little town clearly visible behind us and the ocean far below us to our right as we walked along the top. It was an exceptionally clear day with blue skies and a warm breeze.

Blue dragonflies with black wings hovered above a patch of Cornish Heather. We came to _our place_. It is a natural bench at cliff's edge where we have come forever to sit and talk. I was wondering if this might be the last time we would ever do this.

"Oh, James, I know life has to change but I am going to miss our talks. Don't mistake me. I am so happy for you and Emily, but I am a bit sad that we will lose touch."

"I know it will be different Joanie. It already is, but I need you. I will always need my sister's ear."

My sister and I had a unique relationship, at least from my experience with my friends and their siblings. Other than when I was quite young and could be a nuisance to everyone, especially my sister, we have been close and totally supportive of each other. Joan certainly knew more about me than Emily. That would change with the years, but I too did not like the thought of Joan and me not talking. When we had troubles or our family was struggling, we were always there for each other.

"I can't believe in a month you will be married. I will be a sister-in-law. I do love Emily and it is not like she is a stranger I need to get to know. This really is good James. She is perfect for you, but we have known that for along time, right?"

"Right you are, Muffin. Oh, yes! But, hey tell me, what is is like for you in the romance department these days? Any guys on the hook?"

"You're kidding, right? I do not have time for romance in my life. I really haven't been much aligned with any one of the male gender for several years. You remember Reggie Harcourt. We had a thing a couple of years ago. In the end he was into snogging more than talking and relating. I was the opposite. So Reggie exited stage left and I have not missed it, I can tell you. I like my horse, James. Much less complicated."

"But, what about that Brodie fellow who was around last summer?"

"You mean Brodie Chuppins. He was just here on holiday with a friend, Chad. I accompanied them on some hikes. That's all. His grandparents are friends with Mum and Dad. Mum told me they visited here when you were just a baby. Said Dad treated him for something and they all hit it off. They had told Brodie so much about Portwenn that he wanted to come and see it.

"But, hey, no romantic sparks James. Brodie's a good bloke, a class act actually. He's busy with his life at the University of Alabama in The States. We communicate a bit, but that's all. And you know well I am busy with my own studies and spending time every week with Maya.

"So, big brother, I really only have two men in my life who have my affections, and may I add, can fully trust. I am sitting by one right now and the other is hiding somewhere while wedding plans are discussed."

"You know Joan, when I look at other families, especially those of my peers I realize how lucky we are. Every family is quirky in its own way and has good times and bad times, but we are just plain lucky."

"Sure. And it is not that we haven't had the bad times. The good times, it seems made the bad times bearable. We got through them. We have an amazing father. You know Dad almost never intended to be funny, but so often when he reacted to something in a way he considered normal or routine, we would all be laughing when it was over. I don't think we hurt his feelings. He was often quite confused, but laughed with us in the end. Don't you remember when he yelled at you for eating fast and struck the range hood?"

"Joan, how could I ever forget. It is one of my favorite family stories."

So sitting there I recalled that night at supper. I guess I was around nine or ten. Dad had asked me to slow down and take smaller bites. It was a frequent admonition. He got up to serve some more food from the range cooker and noted that my very next bite was huge. He became instantly angry and screamed "JAMES!" At the same time he struck the range hood with his fist. In doing so he dislodged the range hood bulb. In an instant it had exploded and showered glass all over the kitchen, especially all over our supper. A deathly silence settled over the room. Gradually we all wanted to laugh, but didn't dare. We were holding our breath and suppressing laughter. Finally it was Mum who couldn't bear it and she snorted. That did it. In the end Dad was laughing too. We finally settled and Dad simply said, "Everyone out the door. We are going for fish and chips."

"And it was always the same James. When Dad found himself cornered or totally frustrated he would fall back to something totally incongruous. He always told us how terrible fish and chips were for us, but that night it was, "We are going for fish and chips. He is great. I love him so much. We are way beyond lucky."

"What do you think was the most rigid rule in our house?"

"That is easy to answer. Everyone is to be present for breakfast and supper. And even more emphatic was the rule that the telly was never on during mealtime. Absolutely never."

"But you know Joan, it is the best thing we did. We ate together twice a day.

We were together, actually together. How many families do you know where they eat in shifts and on the run? We all cooked and we all cleaned up. Yes, way beyond lucky."

"You were such a practical joker. Remember when you shaped an aubergine like a banana and stitched a banana peel around it?"

"It was great. Dad had taught me how to do stitches so it was easy for me to do and slip into Mum's lunch. She still talks about it and laughs. She said her teachers told her, 'Louisa, you are in trouble. Just try and keep up with that boy.'"

"And James, how could a man who hated the thought of being around animals be almost the opposite now? You've seen him around Maya. You can't fool a horse.

She knows he's one to trust. What is so ironical is that Mum says dogs would follow him around. There was one time, she told me, when he was carrying a bag with liver in it back to his surgery and it was dripping blood. After that all the dogs followed behind knowing there was bound to be more liver blood. He had to feel like he was cursed."

"Now Dad is really encouraging you to study to be a vet, isn't he?"

"He really is. He knows it is a passion for me. I still go back and rewatch episodes of All Creatures Great and Small."

"Joan, I am away and you are still with Mum every day. How is she? Is she really OK? If she wasn't, you would tell me, right?"

"Of course I would. Mum is doing really good. We talk a lot and I would know if she were getting sick again. No, thank God, she is fine. That would be something she and Dad could not hide, even if they tried."

"I was so afraid when she was sick. I was afraid she would die. I have never seen Dad more despondent. Can you believe Emily's dad took over two weeks and came to be with Dad during the darkest time? It is no wonder they are like brothers. When I see Mum now, it is almost as if she had never been ill. Can you believe it has been over eight years?"

"That time taught me to treasure my family, James, and to treasure every day I have. Like today James, a treasure. Jalaja, the Indian lady who sells samosas always tells me, 'Have a good day. Tomorrow, only God knows.'"

"OK, on our way back we will buy some samosas for lunch. But now my gluteus maximus has had about as much of this saxum maximus as it can take. Let's walk a bit."

We stood and stretched fully. I opened my water and taking a drink shared it with Joan. The sun was warm and the cool water seemed to make you feel better all over. Suddenly Joan embraced me and I hugged her as I think I never had before.

"I love you James."

"Muffin you are the best sister. The absolute best."

We joined hands and walked on toward Havenhurst. Finally we doubled back and going through town stopped and visited with Jalaja. She filled a large bag with samosas and two half pints of mango chutney and mint sauce. She truly is a Portwenn treasure. We were in school with her kids. She came from behind the counter and gave Joan a kiss on the cheek. "Tell your parents they should come by more often. Greet them for me." As she said it she raised her hands held together as if to say in our leaving, "Have a good day - tomorrow, God knows."


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR**

Saint Endelienta was the daughter of the Welsh King Brychan. She and her siblings traveled to Cornwall to bring Christianity to the area in the fifth century. It is said she was martyred by Saxon pirates. She was buried on a hill just four miles from Portwenn. On that hill is a church, the Church of St. Endellion, an anglicized form of her name. It is in that church this day, 14 July 2035 CE, that James Henry Ellingham and Emily Kathleen Jacobs will be married.

Talan Clews was a stone cutter and mason who lived in the 13th century. For over ten years he labored on the construction of the church which would be come St. Endellion. It was a labor of his hands and his heart. With it he fed his family and also his soul. He saw the church dedicated to the glory of God and sat in a pew as the first Mass was celebrated. Not long after in his 48th year Talan died in his sleep. His was the first burial just outside the narthex door. In a sense it was not the first burial. That was St. Endelienta some 700 years before.

These are but two of the hundreds who have been laid to rest in this sacred place. The Celts would say it is a thin place where the distance between heaven and earth is narrowed. Endelienta is remembered but fact from legend can never be known. No one remembers Talan, but he touches everyone who enters this church.

An ancient text speaks of the dead as a great cloud of witnesses. That the dead touch and influence the living in some way is not a difficult thought in many cultures.

We who consider ourselves "enlightened" do not have time for such fanciful thinking in our workaday lives. But on this day of James's and Emily's wedding perhaps it is something to consider.

There is the unquestioned cloud of witnesses that make up the people who walked with these two, but who now rest in the church yard. We know through her dear nephew Martin that Auntie Joan is _present_. One can add Bert Large and Mr Greenlee and Mrs. Lowe, James's first music teacher. Then there is Mrs. Bosman and his school teachers, Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Woodley. John Grant who died in the diving accident when they were teens is here. The list goes on. But what of the others, the ones lost to memory? The ones whose graves are simply unmarked and unknown? What of the woman who _went about doing good_? Is there a way in which their having been here affects our being here? It is sheer mystery, but one would like to think that their brief breath on this earth breathes life and hope and courage into these two for whom today is a moment in time that has no end.

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It was my wedding day and I awakened after just a few hours sleep. I closed my eyes, but to no avail. I decided to get up and walk a bit. I was staying with Arthur as Emily was at our house along with her family who had arrived from the States over a week ago. I slipped out the back door into the cool damp darkness.

In our little village all roads lead to the harbour so my steps were taking me down the hill. How many times had I run over these cobblestones in carefree play? How many trips had I made to the market for Mum? And the trips up to the field for football. The innumerable practices and games. We had quite a team for a town our size. It was always in the early morning hours like this when I joined Mr. Greenlee on his boat for a day's work. Mum was fearful but Dad said it would be good for me. Mr. Greenlee's son had entered the military and needed assistance.

I never realized how exhausting working on a fishing boat can be. Mr. Greenlee was a really nice man. He would always tell me, "James, well my first mate is here. Let's see if we can get some fish today, aye?"

The early morning was pitch black with clouds obscuring whatever light might have been present. I passed the shadow of houses with just a single bulb burning here and there. As I approached the harbour I could make out a figure on the bench at the edge. I was about to skirt the area as I wanted solitude but there was something familiar about the silhouette. I knew it was Emily. She probably wanted to be alone too, but I could not go on. I quietly walked to the bench and sat down.

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Emily jumped a mile. "James. Oh my gosh. You scared me to death. What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?"

"I had no idea you were here. I just couldn't sleep and decided to walk a bit. How about you?"

"The same. I slipped into Joanie's room after everyone had gone to bed and we talked late. You would think I would have been sleepy, but after two or three hours I was wide awake. It was my wedding day and I couldn't sleep. Correction James, it is our wedding day. And hey, you are not supposed to see the bride. Bad luck they say."

"Emily this is the luckiest day of my life. I think it is perfect that we are beginning this day together and we will end it together._ Just us_! Let's just sit awhile and then we'll get back before we are found out."

With that I put my arm around Emily and she cuddled into my chest. We spoke no words. I think the feelings inside us were better left unexpressed, but definitely not uncommunicated.

We had a gentle and lengthy kiss and parted with a, "See you in church." I wandered a bit more and as the grey light of dawn appeared I knew it was close to 5:00 and thought I had better get back. I saw Grandad in his garden picking flowers, and decided not to disturb him. I knew he was collecting flowers for the wedding.

I slipped in the kitchen at the Couch's and there was Artie drinking coffee.

"Out for a stroll mate? Make yourself a coffee."

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I turned over and roused enough to note that Louisa was not in bed. I could see her standing at the window. "Come back to bed Louisa. It's not even daylight."

"Martin. It's Emily. She is outside walking toward the house. Where do you think she has been? I hope she's not having second thoughts."

"Louisa, come back to bed. You are needlessly fretting. There will be a wedding today and you will be a mother-in-law. James and Emily do not have the uncertainty that plagued us. I think Emily could not sleep and went for a walk.

"It would not do for you to pass out at the wedding. It is hardly dawn and you have not slept sufficiently. Come now, back to bed with you."

My husband was attempting to be patient, barely. I was awake and full of thoughts. After all it was 22 years ago this very day that our son was born in that pub up on the moor.

"Can you believe that 22 years ago you were moving to London and I was going to Truro for a routine check-up and planning a life without you? It was a terrible time. How can we have been so stupid? I would not have wished any harm to Tommy, but thank God for the accident that sent us to that pub and induced our son to make his early appearance. When you said you were wrong about going to London I realized how wrong we had both been. You were afraid, but you didn't want to abandon our child. Remember your words?"

"Louisa, that whole day is indelibly etched on my mind."

"You were almost afraid to hold our son, but you said, 'I could learn.'"

"And with your help Louisa, it seems I did. Please now, come lie down."

I lay down beside Martin and placed my head on his chest. "You're right Martin. James and Emily are not like we were."

"Not like we _were_ Louisa, but they are like we _are_. They have no doubts, so close your eyes for a bit. You _will_ be wearing the mother-of-the-groom finery this afternoon."

I must have slept until well after seven. I went downstairs and Luk and Martin were having conversation over tea and toast. Natalie came in and said,

"I can't believe it. It is Emily's wedding day and she is in bed sleeping like a baby. What do you make of that?"

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At five o'clock British Standard Time the Bells of St. Endellion were tolling to call all to the wedding of James and Emily. They were heard throughout the countryside every quarter hour until six, when the ceremony was to begin. If the stones of the old church could speak, what would they say? Perhaps they are whispering, "_Many have walked the aisle you walk today together. Remember, you are never alone on your journey."_


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. **

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE**

We hear the bell chime the hour of six o'clock, time for the wedding to begin. I walk to the altar accompanied by Emily's father and my best man Arthur. The church is almost full. Judith and Matthew are beginning Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel.

A young man pushing a wheel chair enters. The woman in the chair is my Granny Eleanor. I did not even realize her health would allow it, but here she is, oxygen bottle and all, all the way from Spain. The young man assists her as she is seated next to my granddad Glasson.

Emily's grandparents, Henne and Florian, enter and take their place in the second pew on the right. Following them are Mr. and Mrs. Reed, Emily's grandparents from Ohio

My parents appear, dad as always looking uncomfortable in this formal setting. But Mum making up for his stiffness with her grace, beauty and ease, enters wearing a long floral gown, her silver streaked hair high on her head. I suppose Dad and I would have a long debate about who is the luckiest man in this church today.

Emily's mother, in a simple but elegant dove grey lace dress, is escorted to her place of honor next to Emily's grandparents.

Judith begins playing Air on a G String by Bach. It's gentle resonance surrounds us as my sister steps into the aisle and walks toward us. She is attired in a periwinkle gown that so matches her gentle beauty. It is amazing that she handles a thousand pound horse as gracefully as she walks down this aisle.

As Joan takes her place with us at the altar, a pixie enters strewing flowers. Mary Ann Large is almost five. There is not a shy bone in her body and this cute and perky little girl is scattering rose petals where Emily will soon walk and not a few on the folks seated near the aisle. She hesitates but takes Joan's signal to come stand by her.

Standing here with Arthur on my left and my future father-in-law on my right,

my mind is filled with so many memories as I look out on the congregation.

It is strange to see Mum's parents sitting together. Mum's father had only come to Portwenn some five years ago. I know a bit of his checkered past, but he is a good person and I'm glad to have a grandfather in my life finally. Granny Eleanor has always lived in Spain but she came to visit us a good bit over the years. She and dad loved to snipe at each other but I really think there grew an arms-length respect. That she has come for our wedding means a great deal.

There are Al and Morwenna Large with their children, Albert, Thomas, Eva and Rose. Mary Ann is stranding with us. In our family names of address have more to do with relationships than genetics. Uncle Al always said, usually while he had me helping with a task, "James, if something comes apart, you can put it back together. Don't forget that!" I have learned that is true of people as well as machinery.

We did not have a lot of sweets at home but I knew I could always count on Aunt Morwenna for some sticky toffee pudding or treacle tart. The Larges were the most laid back family on earth, but in spite of that, their kids were all very respectful and responsible. Joan and I visited a lot. Of course now Joan has Maya stabled there since Al added the small barn and riding ring to his endeavors.

Close to the front sit the James's. I grew up playing with their children, Peter and Lucy. Stewart is a ranger and they live in a cabin in the woods. He taught me about nature and living in the outdoors. Out of that grew my love of hiking. There was a grave behind their house with a wooden plaque that says _Antony RIP_. I asked him about it once and all he would say was, "It's an old demon James. An old demon." He would not talk anymore about it. I understand now what I did not understand then. I sensed over time my dad had a profound respect for Stewart. His wife, Miss Karen was a lot of fun. She was a good teller of stories that we loved to hear even as we grew older.

Aunt Ruth is seated just behind Mum and Dad, accompanied by her friend from Scotland, Hamish Morgan. I met him once at High Trees when his daughter brought him down to see Ruth, and I know that Dad has taken her to Aberdeen to visit him. She told me he was a friend from many years ago and some years after his wife died he contacted her. She showed me a stack of letters - yes letters. They write each other weekly. Emily and I were happy that they could be together for our day.

This is my village sitting here parents and guardians all. It was impossible to get away with anything with so many eyes on me. In the end it is a good reality. I suppose they want to see how their child turned out. I know the names and the faces. That doesn't really cover it. I could tell you if a scone was made by Mrs. Carnes or by Mrs. Grant.

My eye catches the eye of Dr. Lovette and she smiles. There are a good number of colleagues from the program in Plymouth present, one more group of relationships to be very grateful for.

A hush falls over us as we await the entrance of my bride. The strains of Benedetto Marcello's hymn begin and the doors open. I catch my breath. There is Emily. My Emily.

For the past year wedding and bride magazines had been laying about in profusion. They were opened to special pages, dog eared here and there with a view to reconsidering some idea. There were more wedding gowns that I thought existed, with hundreds of descriptions containing words like bodices, brocade, basque and beads. All I knew at the moment was I was looking at a raven haired angel framed in white. The congregation stands and faces toward her as she moves over the rose petaled carpet.

As she slowly comes toward us I could not have anticipated nor prevented what happened. My eyes welling with tears of emotion, overflow. Artie hands me a handkerchief and I wipe my cheeks as Emily approaches me. I hold out a hand and with a radiant smile on her face, she takes it. We turn and faced her dad.

Expecting to hear Mr. Jacob's voice, I am surprised to hear beautiful chords coming from Matthew's guitar. His father, Mr. Fenn, standing in the midst of the congregation begins to sing.

_He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts _

_Rest assured this troubador is acting on His part. _

_The union of your spirits, here, has caused Him to remain _

_For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name _

_There is love, there is love. _

_A man shall leave his mother and a woman leave her home _

_And they shall travel on to where the two shall be as one. _

_As it was in the beginning is now and til the end _

_Woman draws her life from man and gives it back again. _

_And there is love, there is love. _

_Well then what's to be the reason for becoming man and wife? _

_Is it love that brings you here or love that brings you life? _

_And if loving is the answer, then who's the giving for? _

_Do you believe in something that you've never seen before? _

_Oh there's love, there is love. _

_Oh the marriage of your spirits here has caused Him to remain _

_For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name _

_There is love, there is love.*_

As Emily and I turn to face her dad once more, I whisper in her ear, "_Yes, there is love_."

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*In 1969 Noel Paul Stookey wrote _The Wedding Song_ for his friend's wedding. His friend was Peter Yarrow. With Mary Travers they were Peter, Paul and Mary. The song is still being sung at weddings today, 45 years later. Add 21 years and it obviously is still being sung at weddings. Roger Fenn would have known the song and Louisa, having liked it a lot, arranged for Roger and his son to sing it at her son's wedding.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. **

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX**

_My love lifts up his voice,_

_he says to me,_

_"Come then my beloved,_

_my lovely one, come._

_For see, Winter is past,_

_The rains are over and gone,_

_The flowers appear on the earth._

_The season of glad songs has come,_

_The cooing of the turtledove is heard_

_ in our land._

_The fig tree is forming its first figs_

_and the blossoming vines give out their fragrance._

_Come then my beloved,_

_my lovely one, come."*_

_And thus the passionate ancient poet speaks of the dawning of love between a man and a woman. The Cornish sun saw your love blossom - well it has been some years now, hasn't it? Finally we have all come to witness your commitment to spend the rest of your lives together. We do this in the presence of God and seek his blessing._

With these words I begin the ceremony which will unite my daughter, Emily in marriage to James Ellingham, the son of my good friend Martin and his lovely Louisa. In one sense my mind is a jumble of emotions and yet I am determined to make this day special for them. Suddenly my mind is a cataract of Emily's life. Every tear and tummy ache. Every skinned knee and hurt feeling. Every Christmas morning. Every time I held her on my lap as she went to sleep. Every emergency run to the store before she could go to school. The night she got happy drunk and begged her friends to bring her home, because home was where they always take you in and love you. Every accomplishment and every defeat. Just the sheer joy of having this wonderful child in my life. And with all of the childhood puppy loves and all of the teenage dating and young men who visited us when she was in college - this one, James Henry Ellingham, was the one who she always held in her heart.

I had to stop this whelming flood and get on with the task at hand, one I truly do welcome.

And so I continue.

_What a grand day it is. We have assembled to join James Henry Ellingham and Emily Kathleen Jacobs in marriage. I would be remiss if I did not express the gratitude and happiness James and Emily feel over all of you being here to celebrate this special day with them. I know their families are especially grateful for your presence. And of course I am not just talking of your being here today, but the many ways you have touched these two through the years._

_Emily and James - here we are. The day has arrived. Your families are so full of pride, they can hardly contain it. We know you come with firm resolve. All of us who are married have stood where you stand and felt as you feel. We stood where you stand, but today it's your turn. It is your special day!_

_As an expression of your willingness to totally commit yourselves to one another, I invite you to face each other and join hands._

_James, will you have Emily to be your wife, to live with her, respect her, and love her as God intends with the promise of faithfulness, tenderness, and helpfulness, as long as you both shall live?_

_"I will."_

_Emily, will you have James to be your husband, to live with him, respect him, and love him as God intends with the promise of faithfulness, tenderness, and helpfulness as long as you both shall live?_

_"I will."_

_I want you to listen to this poem by Louis de Bernières:_

_ Love is a temporary madness,_

_ it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides._

_ And when it subsides you have to make a decision._

_ You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together_

_ that it is inconceivable that you should ever part._

_ Because this is what love is._

_ Love is not breathlessness,_

_ it is not excitement,_

_ it is not the promulgation of eternal passion._

_ That is just being "in love" which any fool can do._

_ Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away,_

_ and this is both an art and a fortunate accident._

_ Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground,_

_ and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches,_

_ they find that they are one tree and not two._

_Well I hope I have your attention. You may not, probably won't, remember what I say here, but I'm going to say it anyway._

_In this room are your dearest friends and family. They love you and want the best for you_

_That is why we are here today._

_But everyone here who is married will tell you that making a life together is not a piece of cake._

_ The honeymoon will end and there will be work to do._

_ There will be good times and there will be bad times._

_You need to know that there is another thing we married folks would agree on. __**It is worth it, really worth it.**_

_We know well the verse of the old hymn Amazing Grace:_

_ Through many dangers, toils and snares,_

_ We have already come._

_ Tis grace has brought us safe thus far,_

_ And grace will lead us home._

_The grace of their legacy and the grace of God's love will always be yours._

_You are about to make some extravagant vows._

_To love, comfort, and honor each other to the end of your days._

_To cherish each other and be faithful to each other always._

_You will promise to do these things not just when you feel like it, but even_

_-for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health-_

_when you don't feel like it at all._

_You are giving away your freedom._

_You are taking on each other's burdens._

_So what do you get in return?_

**_You get each other in return._**

_You never have to face the world quite alone again._

_There will always be one with whom you can talk and to whom you can listen._

_You will have a kindness and patience to depend on and in turn you will have the chance to be patient and kind._

_There is someone to get through the night with,_

_And to wake into the new day beside._

_You will both have your lives apart, as well as life together._

_You both still have separate ways to find._

**_But a marriage made in heaven is one where a man and woman become more richly themselves together than the chances are either of them could have ever managed to become alone._**

_I really believe that when Jesus changed the water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee, it was a way of saying the same thing.***_

And it was time for their spoken vows. Believing that the traditional vows from the Prayer Book were both complete and profound James and Emily chose them. And we all listened.

_I James, take you Emily to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow._

_I Emily, take you James to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow._

_As lovers have done for generations - you are exchanging rings. I know rings are spoken of as metaphors of eternal love and beauty, and I suppose they are that. But remember that the beauty of these rings came about because of heat and pressure. I say that so you will know that your love will grow more beautiful as you face life together._

It was at this point as I received the rings from the best man and the maid of honor that there was a twitter of laughter that coursed through the congregation. We were to learn later that the flower girl had hiked up her dress and scratched her bottom. Things settled quickly and James and Emily exchanged the symbols of their commitment to each other. I was moving toward the end with a prayer.

_Let us pray._

_Eternal God, creator and preserver of all life, author of love and giver of all grace. Look with favor upon the world you have made, and especially upon Emily and James who you make one flesh in holy matrimony._

_Give them wisdom and devotion in their ordering of their common life that each may be to the other a strength in need, a counselor in perplexity, a comfort in sorrow and a companion in joy._

_Grant that their wills may be so knit together that they may grow in love and peace with you and one another all the days of their lives._

_Give them grace, when they hurt each other, to recognize and acknowledge their fault, and to seek each other's forgiveness and yours._

_Bestow on them the gift and heritage of children._

_Give such fulfillment of their mutual affection that they may reach out in love and concern for others._

_Grant that all married persons who have witnessed these vows may find their lives strengthened and their loyalties confirmed._

_And Giver of All Good Gifts, pour out the abundance of your blessing upon Emily and James. Defend them from every enemy. Lead them into all peace. Let their love for each other be a seal upon their hearts, a mantle about their shoulders and a crown upon their heads. Bless them in their work and in their companionship; in their sleeping and in their waking; in their joys and in their sorrows...and in all their days may they know the presence of your love. AMEN_

I had an inward sigh of relief as I spoke to everyone.

_Now that James and Emily have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and hearts, and the giving and receiving of rings, __**I pronounce that they are husband and wife.**_

_Those whom God has joined together, may no person or force ever separate._

_AMEN_

_Well, there you are! Seems to me it would be good if you two lovers would seal your words with a kiss._

The organ was well into Handel's Water Music when these two came up for air from their embrace and I could present them to the congregation. Recessionals are never slow. James and Emily were down the aisle quickly with little Mary Ann following, probably wishing she had more flowers to throw on people. Joan took Arthur's arm as they followed. Families followed according to protocol and I was standing alone. Before dismissing the people I said,

_James and Emily invite you all to join them at the Village Hall for a time of celebration. _

Instead of booking a hotel for their reception, James and Emily wanted a place where all would be comfortable and the Village Hall filled the bill perfectly. Emily told me James had said that this was not about show but about celebrating with their friends. Emily, Natalie and Louisa had to agree with James so all the swishy places were off the list. Since 1895 the Village Hall has seen gatherings of celebration and decision. It held many memories for the Ellinghams and their neighbors.

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It was such a lovely evening. No one seemed in a hurry to leave. People milled and visited and congratulated the newly weds. Children at play could be heard. Some of the boys had slipped away to the churchyard. It was decided to go ahead and transport Ruth, Hamish, Eleanor and Terry to the Hall. Natalie and Louisa were bubbling with pride and excitement. Martin was attempting to avoid the unavoidable, a good many wanting to engage him in conversation, congratulatory and otherwise. People coming to him with ailments was pretty rare now.

Suddenly there was a ruckus in the cemetery. Matthew Wilcox came running saying that Thomas Boskano was hurt. Mr. Boskano hurried in that direction as did his wife and not a few others. Louisa was heard to say, "Where there are Ellinghams, there will be a medical emergency." Martin thought it best to check this out. He asked James to retrieve his medical case from the car. Martin always had it close at hand even though we was not in active practice.

It turns out that the boys had been jumping from gravestone to gravestone and Thomas, the Boskano's youngest, had overshot the mark and came down, injuring his foot or ankle. Martin determined that it was a bad sprain at best and perhaps a simple fracture. Requiring an X-ray, a trip to Truro or Bodmin would have to be made. It was obvious the Boskano's were none to pleased about this state of affairs. Not paying any attention to the presence of the crowd Mr. Boskano really gave it to his son.

"What were you thinking? How many times have you been told not to walk on graves? It is a desecration! We will deal with this at home, young man."

It seems he was much more upset about his son's disrespect for the dead than that he had injured himself. He would take Thomas for medical attention and Mrs. Boskano, who was known to most as Miss Mandie, would take the children and go to the party.

It seemed best that we all move on to the Village Hall. There was no guarantee that the young boys would not find even more devilment to get into there, but it was time to celebrate.

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"People, people, people - it is time for the first dance. Come on James and Emily."

Even with a microphone it was difficult to hear above the din of conversation filling the hall. Our music man kept talking and finally people began to settle and gather around the dance floor.

Emily and I made our way to the middle. The music began and we moved to the beautiful waltz which had been our choice for our dance. Toward the end Emily looked at me with eyes of passion. "Oh James, I love you so much." And with that began a kiss that was not at all chaste. We actually stopped dancing and simply embraced. It seems were were in a trance as we became lost in the kiss.

Then we heard a voice from the side, clearly Uncle Al. "Hey, you two, what are you saving for the honeymoon?"

It seems Mr. Bert would always be with us.

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*From the Hebrew Bible, Song of Songs 2:12-13

**By Louis de Bernières in _Captain Corelli's Mandolin_

***These thoughts are from Frederick Beuchner. The formal parts of this ceremony are from The Book of Common Prayer.

This wedding ceremony is in the Anglican/Episcopal tradition. It is the tradition of the Ellinghams and the Jacobs. Emily's father, Luk, is an Episcopal priest in America. A one-size-fits-all ceremony seemed, to this author, to be inappropriate. There is a great attempt in America to homogenize religion and personal beliefs. The brothers on Iona in 795 would not have said all religion is the same as they watched the Viking longboats approaching. It seems important not to diminish differences but to respect and understand differences, and to find common ground. And ultimately whatever our life convictions may be we should listen to what Martin Ellingham and his son would say: Do no harm, treat all with respect and do your job.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. **

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN**

_ "James, please come back to bed and show me more of what we were saving for the honeymoon."_

We were finally able to leave the celebration around 11:00. I had arranged with Abbycabs in Wadebridge to carry us to the Metropol Hotel in Padstow, where I had booked a sea-view room for two nights. I was not going to trust our transport to any townsperson. My parent's wedding night is legend. We had two weeks with no responsibility and were going to take full advantage of it. Thus we could travel on Monday at a leisurely pace and take the passenger ferry to the Isle of St. Martin in the Isles of Scilly. We could have flown off to Monaco or Barcelona but all we really wanted was a quiet place to just be together, away from any pace faster than a walk.

"James, come on come back to bed. The view of the sea is breathtaking from here. I could stay here all day. Maybe we will."

"Alright, be right there. I have just discovered an envelope addressed to us that someone must have slipped into my suitcase."

I slipped under the covers next to Emily and leaned against a large pile of pillows.

She cuddled next to me and I opened the letter. I read aloud,

_Dear James and Emily,_

_ We did not want to take any lustre from your special day so we waited to share our news until now. On Sunday afternoon we are to be married at High Trees. Father Luk agreed to perform the ceremony, with only family and friends from High Trees present._

_ After two years of letters and visits Hamish asked me to come live with him in Aberdeen. He told me if he only had one day left on this planet he wanted to spend it with me. Romance is not limited to the young! I, of course, have felt the same although a firm decision was a bit long in coming. Your mum, James, has been the great encourager in all of this. I think she is more over the top than I am._

_ When I suggested there did not have to be a wedding, Hamish's daughters insisted. We should be an example to the grandchildren. I suppose you can't have us living in sin. Frankly at our age the idea of sinning sounds a bit exciting. You may not want to picture that._

_ Enjoy your honeymoon and your life together. You are two of the most deserving people I know. I wish you every happiness._

_All my love,_

_Aunt Ruth_

We lay holding each other watching the placid blue ocean and and even bluer sky.

I told Emily what she could not have known

"You know, this is not a great surprise. I am very happy for them. You do not know it but Ruth and Hamish knew each other when they were in their 20's. For some reason they drifted apart and went their separate ways. His wife passed some years ago and he and Ruth have reconnected. Finding love again after all these years is very rare I imagine."

"I do love your Aunt Ruth and this is the best news. I can only hope that they are as happy as we are, James."

With that she cuddled even closer, and we looked forward to the day with the "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on the door.

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We were having tea on a lovely June morning. All at table agreed the lemon teacake was delicious. Isla came by and handed me some mail. "Ruth, looks like you have a secret admirer in Scotland." She would have noted the return address, of course. She had married a Portwenn fellow she met in the military, but she was all Scottish. She is loved by all here. I noted the letter and my heart skipped a beat, no three beats. I did my best to hide my surprise and said, "Oh, that would be something. I think it just an advertisement, probably for life insurance. Isla, could you trade these scones for more tea cake?" My friend, Judith saw the ploy and would prod me in private for the truth of the matter.

_15 June 2033_

_Dear Ruth,_

_ No doubt this letter will come as a bit of a surprise. I did a bit of sleuthing and found out your are in Portwenn and decided to write. It has been so many years since we last saw each other._

_ You know the old saying that marriages are made in heaven and there is one woman for each man. I know that to be absurd. I have had the gift of loving twice. While I know we eventually drifted apart, we did have a special relationship. Then one day at the library at the University of Edinburgh I picked up a dropped book and handed it to its owner. It happened to be Wei Ting, the woman who would be my wife for 43 years. Four years ago she passed away from cancer and the sun went down in my life. She urged me not to be alone but no one could take her place and alone I have been. In the end she even said, "Where do you suppose your old college friend Ruth is? You should try to contact her." So finally, that is what I am doing. I do hope you do not feel this to be intrusive. It has taken sometime to allow myself to do this. It would be nice to hear how you are and perhaps correspond a bit. _

_ I am reasonably well and do hope I may hear from you. This is not about resurrecting the past, but about living again in the present._

_Hamish_

_8 July 2033_

_Dear Hamish,_

_ Surprise would not quite capture my emotions upon receiving your letter. Certainly you are remembered but one tends to suppress hurtful memories. Distance did not make the fire burn brighter. It went out, didn't it? I do not sow blame. What is past is past. A mutual friend at university, I believe it was Alice Sawyer, told me of Wei Ting. I assure you I only wished you every happiness._

_ I am deeply sorry that you have lost her to death._

_ I found myself in Portwenn when I inherited a farm from my sister. I lived in town a number of years and now am at High Trees, a lovely manor house for old coots who are waiting on God. The farm is now owned and managed by a man I chose to mentor, and his good family. _

_ For over 30 years I worked as a forensic psychiatrist at Broadmoor Hospital. I thought early on I might go into child and adolescent psychiatry. Ironically I think I did. Many of my patients had the mind of a child, but no conscience. I did choose the most unsafe branch of medicine. My cause extempore has been promoting treating the criminally insane with respect and serious care._

_ There was no romance in my life after "us," unless you want to count fixations on me by patients I treated at Broadmoor. One patient even stalked me all the way to Portwenn. Fortunately he is back under Her Majesty's care in Bracknell._

_ You may consider this letter a response to your invitation. I would welcome hearing from you and knowing about your life in Aberdeen. At least we can argue about who has the worst weather. Do write again soon._

_Ruth_

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I am sure Hamish was a bit anxious when he did not hear from me right away. Did I really want to connect again after so many years and two very divergent lives? There was a bit of an emotional tingle when I realized who the letter was from. I didn't know that feeling was possible at my age. Well, it is. I had told Louisa about Hamish many years before so I decided to see what she thought.

"Ruth I know I am an old romantic, but you must write him. My gosh, this is not a marriage proposal. It is an old friend wanting to hear from you. Do you remember when you were such a help to Martin and me when we feared our relationship could not survive? You told me then one of the greatest regrets of your life was following your head and ignoring your heart. You and Hamish had something together and you lost it. What does your heart say, Ruth?"

"I have a good life Louisa. Moving here and working with Al and having such a tie to you and Martin and your wonderful children gave me new life after my career in the prison. I have friends at High Trees."

"Ruth, what does your heart say?"

"It tells me I must write Hamish. He is quite lonely. I must not ignore him."

"Well, there you are. Sorted. Please call me tomorrow and tell me you have posted a letter."

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_15 July 2033_

_Dear Ruth,_

_ Your letter was so welcome. I have to say when I saw it in the post I honestly had a bit of a flutter. Kid's stuff for an old man. I have been in Aberdeen for many years now. Wei Ting was a very busy gynaecologist here, and here we raised our daughters. Peggy and Sarah live here in Aberdeen and Barbara is in Ashtead, which is quite close. They are all married and I have seven grandchildren who are at all ages and stages of life. I live at Seaview Place which may be similar to High Trees. My flat has two bedrooms so I can have a space for my studio, as I still do some sculptures..._

And thus began a regular correspondence between Hamish and me. With much time on our hands we wrote quite a lot in each letter. Over several months we shared details of life past and present and gradually talked about how we felt about life and eventually began to be more personal. It was an area in which I know we both were treading lightly.

There was an area that Hamish was avoiding and I suspected it was caution on his part, but I decided to make my feelings very clear. I recall telling him in one of my letters,

_ Hamish, I want you to speak to me of Wei Ting. I would so like to know about her and your life together. She has to be a part of who you are. What you love is important to me. To the extent you are comfortable, please do this for me. It would mean a great deal._

That opened vistas in our writing we could not have imagined. Additionally it helped me understand his children and grandchildren.

Something we both had in common was that we were in reasonably good health for our ages and could be involved in the lives of those close to us. I spent some time every week on the farm with Al and Morwenna. I loved watching Joan putting her horse through its paces. Martin and Louisa often had me round for a meal. Hamish taught art to underprivileged children and had some private students who came to his residence. He was often with his daughters' families.

Summer was waning and the leaves were changing. The weather was becoming quite blustery. In late October I received my weekly letter from Hamish with a query that was inevitable, given the depth our correspondence had taken.

_ Surely you have considered the possibility of our seeing each other. At times I think of little else. Are you willing to pursue the possibility with me? You know you would be welcome here. I have been talking with my daughters about our writing. If it were a school holiday it is possible one of my grandchildren could accompany me to Portwenn. Forgive my presumption, but tell me if you feel similarly._

Naturally this had been on my mind too. Hamish was always the free spirit and I the practical one. I really did want to see him and test the feelings I was having, but my pragmatism took over and I did not really want us to travel with the uncertainty of weather. This is not what Hamish wanted to hear but I thought it most impractical for us to plan such a trip in either direction before spring. So I explained my feelings and there was the issue of our health.

_ I, like you, want us to be together, but I think it unwise presently. I have been unwell of late. It is a respiratory issue and I hope it is resolved soon as it leaves me without any energy whatsoever. In addition to the uncertainty of the weather and the roads, I want us to be at the top of our game health-wise when we travel. You are very special to me and I regret all this, but I really think it best if we put it off for now._

He was disappointed, of course, but his response was to send me a beautiful bouquet of roses.

It turned out to be a very wicked winter. There was not only high winds and much rain but even flooding in the low-lying areas. We were high and dry at High Trees and I seldom went into town. I so looked forward to Hamish's letters.

They were filled with humor and even a poem or two. Ever the funny romantic, my Hamish. Did I say that? "My Hamish." Well I suppose to use an old saying we were a bit sweet on each other.

Unfortunately in January my health took a turn for the worse. I stayed in touch with Martin and told him I was feeling quite horrible. He came to see me and after conferring with Dr. Cox, the local GP, he decided I should be in hospital. My respiratory issues had turned into viral pneumonia. I felt so miserable that I had no desire to eat or tend my house or even write letters. I had no idea the fallout that would follow this.

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Martin was spending much time at the hospital with Aunt Ruth and thus was not home when a call came in from the Portwenn Surgery. "Oh, Mrs. Ellingham, this is Jenifer. We received a call asking for Dr. Ellingham. A Mr. Morgan called and asked me to request that Dr. Ellingham call him." Dr. Cox had a lovely and efficient assistant and it was always pleasant speaking with her. I asked her why this Mr. Morgan did not just make an appointment. "Well, he said he was in Scotland and needed to speak with Dr. Elllingham."

The penny dropped. I was not used to hearing Hanish referred to as "Mr. Morgan." "Thanks much Jenifer. I believe I know who it is. We'll contact Mr. Morgan."

I rang off with Jenifer and decided it best to call Hamish right away. I dialed the number and there was an instant answer. "Hello. Is this Dr. Ellingham? Hamish Morgan speaking."

"No, Hamish, this is Louisa, Dr. Ellingham's wife. Martin is out right now and having received your message I wanted to respond. I imagine you are calling about Ruth."

"Yes. Yes I am. I did not receive a letter this week. Is Ruth alright? Is anything wrong?"

"Hamish, I hate to tell you but Ruth is in hospital. She has pneumonia and Martin and our local physician thought it best for her to be taken care of at the Royal Cornwall in Truro. Martin is with her now and hopefully will bring news of her progress this afternoon."

"Mrs. Elllingham...

"Hamish, no formalities. Please call me Louisa. Ruth has said so much to me I feel like I know you even though we have yet to meet."

"Well, Louisa, this is the worst news. I feel like I should be there. Perhaps I could make arrangements to come."

Oh, my. How was I to head this off? A visit now would not be good for many reasons. The weather is atrocious and the roads are always chancy. One never knows when a slick spot will appear. This ninety year old man should not make a journey of over 600 miles now. Even flying to Newquay one still has over an hour's drive to Portwenn. And I knew Ruth would not want Hamish to see her in her current condition.

"Hamish, you do not want to hear this, but do not come now. Coming now would be extremely unwise. When things are improved we look forward to your visit. Ruth speaks of little else. She told me she hopes to see you in the spring.

Hamish responded and I could tell it was difficult for him to control his emotions.

"But Louisa, this illness. It changes everything. Ruth means so much to me. What if... What if I were to never see her again? I cannot bear the thought."

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Dear Readers: You may think this is a bit farfetched with Ruth and Hamish in their 90's. Of course Dame Eileen June Atkins would be 99 in 2033 which would be a bit much. But in the canon Ruth has retired and moved to Portwenn so that could put her in her 60's which would make my story plausible. Hiram Lackey was a farmer from Rose Hill, Kansas. I knew him personally. He was in his 90's and still worked his fields on his tractor. Ruth and Hamish are of the ilk of Hiram Lackey. Tough old birds you might say.

I owe a big thank you to Snowsie2011 for loaning me Ruth and Hamish. Her story, of course, inspired their relationship in this story. And I would be remiss if I did not also thank Reallybodmin for bringing us Luk and his family who have been prominent in recent chapters.


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. **

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT**

"What if I were to never see her again?"

Hamish's words hung in the air like a dark cloud as I heard the panic in his voice. "I've checked and there are flights to Newquay. I could get a taxi from there. She must not be alone!" His voice cracked as he spoke.

There was irony in the fact that Ruth and Hamish had not seen each other for 50 years, and yet their letters had become so personal that in their minds' eyes they had seen each other. And of course among Martin and me, and Al and Morwenna, Ruth received constant attention. Yet I understood and could not be dismissive of Hamish's feelings.

I chose my words carefully. "Hamish, I know you feel desperate. Even if you were here you could not see Ruth in hospital. Upon returning she'll need a good while to recuperate. I have every confidence that she will survive this, Hamish. She has a strong will to live, not the least of which is tied to your renewed friendship."

"Louisa, I just feel so helpless so far away."

"There's something you can do; you must do. Please write her and post it overnight delivery. I think a letter from you would be most heartening.

"Well, of course, I'll do that, Louisa. I can see the difficulty of my coming now. Would just be in the way. Please keep me posted on how she is. I simply must know!"

I promised myself at that moment that I would call him daily with an update.

"Yes, of course I will. I have your number. And Hamish, I want to extend an invitation to you to come be with us in the spring. When I see the first pink blossom on our magnolia tree I will let you know and we will arrange your coming."

"Thank you Louisa, that is most kind. I have told Ruth I would like for her to visit me in Aberdeen. Do you think that could be arranged?"

With all of his hiking in Scotland, James had told us how much we were missing by not planning a holiday there. I replied, "Hamish, Martin and I would very much like to make a trip your way and bring Ruth. Perhaps we can do that in June or July."

That was Tuesday and the next morning a letter from Hamish was delivered to our door. I told Martin that I wanted to visit Ruth and take the letter to her. He cautioned me to wear a mask and be very careful, but understood that I needed to go.

Upon entering Ruth's room I found her sleeping. Her appearance was quite ashen and I knew she would not be leaving hospital soon. I sat until she stirred a bit and let her know I was there. "Hello, Aunt Ruth. I come bearing a special gift you will want to see."

She spoke softly, "Oh, Louisa. Good to see you. I'm afraid I will not be good company today. I hardly have the energy to speak."

"Don't fret about that. A letter from Hamish arrived this morning and I knew you'd want to see it. When he didn't receive a letter this week, he called with concern. I explained your situation and naturally he is distressed, but I promised I'd keep him informed of your progress."

"Oh my. A letter from Hamish. They're always so long. I don't feel like reading a long letter right now. Would you read it to me, please?"

I opened the envelope and was surprised. "Well, Ruth, it's not long at all. In fact it's not a letter. It's a poem."

I quickly scanned it and knowing how I react to something like this I hoped I could get through it. I began,

_My dearest Ruth,_

_A single star appeared in my dark night, _

_The moment I saw your letter in the post._

_One gets used to traveling in the dark._

_Being lost._

_Better than light showing what has been lost forever._

_Now you have brought stars into my night._

_Thousands of distant orbiting swirling balls of fire, just pin points_

_ of light in my sky._

_I did not believe there could be light again after she died._

_She knew there could be._

_Told me so._

_No! No! I would not hear it._

_I could not._

_Then came the day I knew it would be a betrayal of her not to try._

_She always sought what I needed._

_What was best for me._

_My letter to you was a token of my faithfulness to her._

_So, now I think I can believe in life after death._

_You have brought life to me, Ruth._

_With you as my companion, I do not fear walking in the night,_

_With the stars you have strewn across the heavens._

_I will come in the spring._

_We will walk at night and bask in the light of the stars._

_With much love and care,_

_Hamish_

Both our eyes were brimming with tears and we said nothing for a bit. Ruth spoke, "Louisa, Hamish is a bloody fanciful romantic...and I love him. I do. I wish he were here."

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The magnolia is the first tree to bloom in the spring in Cornwall. There have been blooms in January but mid February is more typical. It is a sign that winter is being defeated and a harbinger of a glorious, if not wet, springtime to come. The gardens will be awash with color in a matter of weeks once one sees blooms on the magnolia trees.

I was looking out the kitchen window in early February and noticed buds on our magnolia. This did not just mean spring was a around the corner. My mind went to the words I had spoken to Hamish. This meant that he and Aunt Ruth would actually meet up for the first time since they had begun corresponding many months ago.

So, on a chilly but sunny day in March Ruth had joined us at White Rose House as we awaited the arrival of Hamish and his daughter Peggy who was driving him down. I thought it would be much better than having them arrive at High Trees with prying eyes all around. Late afternoon, it must have been around four, they finally arrived. Upon entering introductions were made all around.

I must say Hamish's appearance belied his age. He was impeccably groomed and was quite handsome in kaki trousers and a brown wool tweed jacket.

Ruth and Hamish's greeting was quite restrained. He held out both hands and she took them. Looking at each other Hamish said, "Ruth, it's so good to see you." Ruth's reply was simply, "It was good of you to come."

It was Martin who, in his diffusing manner, broke in and said, "I've made reservations at a hotel nearby where we can have supper. Perhaps we can prepare and leave soon."

Ruth was quick to reply, "Why don't the three of you go enjoy yourselves. Hamish must be tired. We'd prefer to just stay here. If we get hungry we can forage for a bite."

This was orchestrated well. They wanted to be alone and we wanted to leave them alone. Of course my dense husband did not pick up on the script at all and tried to convince them they needed some good nourishment and should go with us. I was close enough for a nudge and a sigh and he got the message. We did share a pot of tea, and Peggy and I freshened up a bit before we left. My intention was to leave the happy couple to themselves for several hours. Martin would have to endure Peggy and me dawdle over desert and coffee.

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With the sound of the car leaving, we closed the door and walked back into the living room. "Hamish, is this real? Is this really happening? You may need to pinch me."

"Well, Ruth, pinching you is a pleasant thought, but I believe I'd like a proper hug."

With that we embraced and held each other without speaking. One thinks about the emotional energy that people generate by being together a lot. That is nothing compared to the latent feelings that had grown between us in over six months of writing letters. People make jokes about old love but somehow our lips joined in a kiss that we held and enjoyed forever. When we parted we looked at each other with eyes that I once thought were only for us when we were together in our 20's.

"My gosh, Hamish, I did not think I was capable of feelings like this. Evidently we have parts that still work."

I felt his hand slip onto my bum and gave it a squeeze with the comment,

"A request you made m'lady. Only too happy to comply," as he generously squeezed again.

"You know Hamish this is a quite heady experience, although I wouldn't limit it to that part of the anatomy. Perhaps we should sit down."

To be trite about it I was quite swept off of my feet. I had not known what to expect when we met face to face again, but I must say it was more than I hoped for. Our writing over the weeks and months had carried a crescendo of emotion as we spoke, not only of history and life, but of how we were coming to feel toward each other. We were candid and honest. I knew I could never replace Wei Ting and Hamish did not look for that. I wanted to protect his memory of her. We wanted to accept each other for who we are now shaped by many years of living after our early days together. It should not have come as a surprise, but it did, to realize we were in many ways the same two people who had a happy but brief relationship all those many years ago. It was my field after all. Our basic personalities are formed quite early; nurture and nature and all that.

We sat holding hands in a warm cuddle, not saying much. The evening was getting on and Hamish said, "We call it the _gloaming_ at home, just before dark. On a nice day it's lovely as it is tonight. It's a wonderful view out of these windows. You know if you're a bit peckish, we could have a bite to eat."

"Alright, let's explore the possibilities." In the end we found bread to toast and good Cotswold cheese. We cooked up a quick Welsh Rarebit and had a quite satisfying supper. We both agreed that coffee would keep us awake but we did find some chocolate digestives in the pantry for a suitable finish.

"Ruth, I do look forward to meeting your friends at High Trees."

"Well, I will be in a lot of trouble if I do not show up with you tomorrow."

"We have four days together. Peggy has to be back by the end of the week. She wants to spend time exploring Cornwall. You know while I am here I want to talk about your coming to visit Aberdeen."

It was a clear night and walking back into the room after eating we stood at the window and watched the moon reflecting off the white tips of the waves. Hamish went over and pulled two large pillows off of the sofa and dropped them on the floor in front of the window.

"Ruth let's sit down here and watch the sky and the ocean."

"Hamish, we may get down, but we'll never get up."

"Oh, where is your sense of adventure?"

And with that Hamish somehow sat down on the pillow. I carefully went down on my knees and then sat back on the other pillow. So far, so good, but that would not be the real challenge, would it? We laid back with our heads on the pillows and looked out at white stars on an ink black sky. Then we looked at each other and could but smile.

"You know Hamish, I seem to remember your being quite ticklish in the ribs."

I took my finger and started tickling him and he began laughing.

"Some things never change. I knew it. I could always get you laughing."

We carried on like that for a bit and with our talking and laughter did not hear the diners returning from their night out.

The first thing we heard was Peggy saying, "Well, it looks to me like one of us should have stayed to chaperone you two!"

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It had been quite a day. We were able to settle everyone for the night. Peggy chose to stay in a hotel. Joan's room being available, we invited Ruth to spend the night with us instead of returning to High Trees. Hamish was in the guest room which had its own ensuite. Martin and I could finally adjourn to the privacy of our room.

"Martin, I hope we can still roll on the rug and laugh when we are 90."

"Louisa, whatever are you going on about? We don't roll on the rug and laugh now!"

"It's just so good to see Ruth and Hamish enjoying themselves. It seems finally meeting up has confirmed what they've said in their letters. And I did enjoy our evening out with Peggy. She is lovely and seems to be glad that her dad and Aunt Ruth have reconnected."

After finishing in the bath, Martin was in the bed and I walked back into the room wearing my white night gown. Martin calls it THE white night gown. And yes I was not being subtle. I turned out the light and the room was still illumined from the night sky. I slipped under the covers and cuddled up next to my Martin. As I kissed him I whispered in his ear,

"Mmmmm. Let's see if my little soldier is standing at attention...Well now, even saluting are we?"

We were not on a rug, but we were laughing.


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER TWENTY NINE REMEMBRANCE**

**The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated. **

**CHAPTER TWENTY NINE**

"I thought they spoke English in Scotland. Obviously I was mistaken. I wonder if the Queen brings a translator when she travels to Balmoral."

This was not my first visit to Aberdeen. Hamish and I decided we would visit each other as much as possible. Sometimes there was a month or two between our times together, but we worked to make it frequent. We even managed to move between Portwenn and Aberdeen in the winter. There were flights between Newquay and Aberdeen, not direct, but they were manageable. Manageable meaning "_Where_ _there is a will, there is a way_." At times it meant an overnight in Birmingham or Manchester. Our families were quite patient with us, I have to say.

This was a miserable rainy January night with many like it preceding and more yet to come, I imagine. We hadn't done our evening walk in several days. The common room with its fireplace was welcoming but most folk go to their flats early and so it was just Hamish and me and three others, who were having some sherry with us.

It was Alice Teeter who broke the silence. _"The_ song should not be _Land of the blooming heather._ It should be _Land of the lousy weather_. Why do they call this Seaview? I haven't seen the sea in three days. Ruth, don't you wish you were back home away from this?"

"You're kidding, right," I replied. "Cornwall can run you a close race on the weather front. No, Alice, I'm fine being here tonight," and my eyes went furtively to Hamish.

"Ruth, I know I am too outspoken but I can't figure why you don't just save the airfare and trouble and move up here with us Scots. We will forever hate Prince William for what he did at Culloden but we are a welcoming lot. I'd love to see you at afternoon tea every day. I'd best shut up and get to my flat. Cherio. See you at breakfast."

We were alone in the large timber-framed room sitting close to the fire. The dark wood and leather furniture added to the warmth and comfort. I made my light-hearted comment about the Scottish brogue and it triggered an unexpected response from Hamish.

"Oh Ruth, I wish you were here every day of the year listening to this blather. Could we do what we might have done so long ago? Marry me Ruth. If I only had one day left on this planet, I would want it to be with you. Surely you have thought on this."

"Of course I have thought on it, but tonight it does come as a bit of a surprise. And in many ways I want to just say yes, Hamish, but it is fraught with difficulty. And you know what that is."

"Of course I do. You've grown close to your family in Portwenn and are hesitant to leave. Am I right?"

"Yes, that's the crux of the matter. And it's not just Martin and Louisa and the children. You know how much Al and his family mean to me. His children have always called me Granny. Leaving them would be very hard. Yet I know with your children and grandchildren so close here, I couldn't possibly ask you to move to Portwenn. Besides you have your art and your students."

"So, is that no? Is that saying it's not possible?"

He may not have intended it, but there was pleading in his voice. This was no spur of the moment thought. Knowing how this had grown in his mind I did not want to crush his hopes.

I took his hand in both of mine and looked into his eyes. "Hamish, please give me some time. I know we may not have a great deal of that commodity, but I have to think a bit. You know nothing would make me happier than being with you and being your wife. Of course I don't know why we have to go through the wedding bit, do you? If we decided on it perhaps one of these times I could just buy a one way ticket and that would be it."

"Thank you Ruth. I will say that doing it right is somewhat important to me. I would like you to be my bride. Too, there'd be peace in the family as I know my daughters would want a proper wedding."

"Well, if this bloody weather lets up I'm to return to Portwenn next week.

It's important that I talk with Al. You may not understand, but it is vital. We'll continue talking about this because I do think it's something we both want. So you may take that as a qualified _yes_, my dear. You may have a _yes_ from my heart and a _maybe_ from my head."

I moved and kissed him in a way that he would know my depth of feeling.

His proposal was special after all, and I wanted him to know it.

"Well Ruth, ever the hopeful one, I think I shall listen to your heart."

"And Hamish there's one more thing. If we manage this, I wouldn't think of intruding on the plans that James and Emily are making. It would have to be after their wedding."

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With the continual fog in Cornwall the trip home took three days, spending two miserable days in Birmingham. We realized that traveling in the winter was absurd and risky. It would be spring before Hamish and I would be together again. It gave us time to think. We did talk on the phone at times but continued to write. Hamish could express himself in writing so much better than when he had to respond in conversation.

It was early February when I asked Isla to serve tea in my flat. I had asked Al to come by so we could talk. Having never married I had no idea what a relationship with your own child would be like, but I don't think I could have more love for this man had I given birth to him. Morwenna and the children are as much family to me as Martin's family. I count myself a very lucky woman.

How can I ever forget the day Al was leaning against the tractor and looking like a lost child? I finally was able to pry out of him that he had used my funds, given to him for a fence project, to get his dad out of trouble. He evidently planned to replace the funds by some miracle without my knowing what he had done. My heart sank and I turned and walked back into the house.

I had not realized he followed me until he called my name.

"Ruth! My dad was in trouble and I was desperate. I'm sorry. I don't know how, but I'll find some way to make it right with you."

My response was an emotional one. "Al, you need to leave. We will discuss this further, but not today. Please go now."

It was in that moment as I heard the sound of his scooter on the gravel that a resolve came to me that is as strong as any I have ever had. I had worked with hundreds of men to whom I could not really give hope. No matter how much I helped them, they would remain incarcerated. Here was a person to whom I could give hope. I liked Al and I determined that I would do whatever was necessary to open a door of possibility. He would have the hope all those men never had.

He needed to think, so it was several days before I spoke to him again.

We were at a fund raising party at the Large Restaurant. Coming up to me he said, "I've decided to sell the scooter. That way I can begin paying you back."

I responded, "Al, isn't that short-sighted? How will you get to work without the scooter?"

"You mean I still have a job."

I didn't actually answer him. I simply let the truth of my question sink in and smiled.

Al returned the smile and in that moment, without words, we made a pact. It was the best decision I ever made. Of course there were mistakes along the way but he never disappointed. Never. He is a fine father and husband and a quite good person of business. I was shaken from my reverie by a tap on the door.

Al spoke as he entered. "Ruth, sorry I'm late and arriving in a quite grubby state. Lambing has started early this year. One of our ewes gave birth last night. Well, really about five this morning. She had a rough time, but all is well. We have twins, we do. Two beauties."

"Al, it wasn't necessary that we speak today. You could have called me.

Don't the animals need your attention?"

"No, all is good. Eva is with the new lamb. She stayed up with me all night. Morwenner and the cheldern know the routine and will get the chores finished. I'm glad to get away. A long night, y' know."

"Well, thank you for coming, nonetheless. Pour yourself a cup of tea and excuse me for a minute." I went to find Isla and have her bring Al some breakfast. He needed more than a meager scone or two.

"That really hit the spot. Morwenner brought me coffee at midnight but no food since denner. Much thanks to Isla and the cook. Sorry I look a mess but you sounded serious when you said you wanted to talk. At least that's how I took it. So tell me, what's on your mind."

"Al, to get to the point, Hamish has asked me to marry him and if that were to happen, it would likely mean my moving to Aberdeen."

"Well, no surprise there. You know Ruth we have known each other for some years now. We did alright, didnus? You are as fitty a person as I have ever known. You don't turn left or right. Maybe that is the Ellingham way.

But, you know since Hamish has shown up you have a bit of a spark. When you are with him or when you speak of him, you can't hide it. Geddon Ruth, geddon. You must marry him. Don't give it a second thought."

"But Al, I am conflicted. Since moving to Portwenn I have been quite content. Martin's family and your family mean the world to me. I don't know if I can bear not being with your children."

"Traveling back and forth is not good. I know you want to be together, so do it. Just do it. As long as you are able we will prepare a cottage and you can come every summer for a month or more. You and Hamish are welcome anytime.

"Honestly, Ruth, it'll be hard to see you move to Aberdeen. But it would be harder for me to see you lose the spark because you didn't go. We started out strictly business, but you have become like the mum I never had. You have always wanted the best for me and I'm telling you, I want the best for you too."

The longer Al talked the more strained his voice became. Something had to happen to break this emotional pressure we were both feeling. Fortunately Al

took care of it.

"What do you say about putting some things in a bag and coming to the farm? The kids would love having you there. You can see the new babies."

"That sounds good, Al. But staying on the topic, you know you haven't made this any easier."

"Oh, didn' I? Ruth, only the rocks live forever. Of course I think you are giving the rocks a run for their money. Look, today and tomorrow you can be with the cheldern, but cheldern grow up. They get involved with school and mates. How often do you see James and Emily? I really think you would like to wake up next to Hamish every morning. I know you will be 600 miles away, but if you are happy, we'll be happy."

We sat for a moment. I poured Al another cup of tea. He took a drink of it and began to fumble in his pocket. He pulled out a small brownish disc and showed it to me.

"Ruth, the cheldern found a rabbit's nest in the field by the horse barn.

They knew not to bother the rabbits, but in looking around they saw this and some other stuff that the rabbits had dug up. This must be an old coin. There were some broken steen. Not much really. Well, Tommy is our curious one and began checking. People have been living on this land for thousands of years. Some digging rabbits have made us think of them again. No one remembers them. Not to be gloomy, Ruth, but let's enjoy the day and every day. Now pack a bag and let's go to Havenhurst. We have some lambs to check on and if it doesn't rain I will take you and show you where the cheldern found this coin."

"Alright, but I must tell you: Not a word of this to anyone. Well, you can tell Morwenna, but no one else must know. I haven't even spoken with Martin and Louisa about it."

"My lips are sealed, but I hope I have convinced you. And, by the way, if you think Louiser is not expecting this then you don't know her like I do.

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A fascinating fact is that rabbits actually revealed an 8,000 year old archeological site near Land's End in Cornwall. A two-year escavation will begin soon.


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER THIRTY REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**Following this chapter we shall soon be rejoining Louisa and Joan on their holiday in France.**

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

"Oh Ruth it's beautiful. You're beautiful. It _is _the perfect dress for your wedding."

Louisa and I were in Truro for the day. I had protested her taking time away from planning her son's wedding. She was adamant that we would have a day together and select a wedding dress for me. I remember our argument which I was doomed to lose.

"Ruth, what are you about? No, we'll do this. Do you think this is just about you? After all you're my favorite aunt and it will be great fun to do a day and buy you a dress."

"Louisa, I'm your _only _aunt, and that by marriage. I didn't even want to involve you in this. I told Hamish we could not marry before James's wedding in July. I had to speak with Al of course, and he must have let it slip; or was it Morwenna?"

"It doesn't matter. You do know Hamish and I became pretty good friends while you were ill last year. I promised to call him every day. You two deserve each other Ruth. He's a dear. Please don't shoot the messenger, but he's so over the top that he unintentionally let your news slip."

"Well, bugger that! So much for secrets."

How could I be upset? Over the years Louisa had become much more like a daughter to me. She was the only person I had ever told about my feelings for Hamish, and that many years ago. My regrets then had driven me to encourage Louisa and Martin to make a go of it. Louisa always said I saved their marriage. Well, that is what I wanted, but it was their effort that accomplished it. I was glad to nudge them in the right direction.

Actually rather than detract from her working with Emily and James she seemed to be even more excited and animated than before. In the end I was very pleased that she could be included and involved.

Now here I was in a beautiful dress and I had to agree with Louisa. It was the dress I wanted for my wedding. It was a calf-length ivory chiffon with lace appliqués over a silk underdress. It had a matching long-sleeved jacket that felt like gossamer.

Later we visited over lunch.

"I really love when we can get fresh asparagus. This is so delicious and can you believe the scallops? Martin isn't here to harrumph so I think we should finish with a treacle tart and lemon ice cream. Ruth, now that I'm involved in your wedding, and I am involved you know, I have an inspiration."

So it was Louisa who suggested we have our wedding at High Trees on the day after James and Emily's wedding. She was sure Father Luk would be glad to officiate. It would be simple with just a few friends present at the ceremony. Later we could have a reception in the big room for our High Trees friends and people from the village.

"Let's pay the bill and get on the road. I want to get home before it rains, but you know Ruth, I have to say you and Hamish just don't seem old to me."

"Well, that's nice to hear, but I wish you would tell my bones when I get out of bed in the morning. You know I almost died last year, but lying in that bed in hospital it was thoughts of Hamish that made me want to live. I read his letters and his poem and knew I had a reason for getting well. I'm just better when I'm with him. He feeds my soul but he helps this old body too. He likes long walks and loves to dance. But it's getting late. Let's take my new dress home. I'll sleep well after all our walking today. I certainly will not need supper after all that.

Thank you Louisa. Thank you so much."

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So we were together for our wedding Sunday afternoon after James and Emily were married the day before. The furniture had been removed from the smaller reception room at High Trees and even so it was a bit full. Having arrived on Saturday, Hamish's daughters and their families had decided to make a week's holiday in Cornwall and had let a large house on the coast near St. Ives. Add to them Martin's family, the Larges and a few close friends and we had a crowd.

Luk took charge and gathered everyone around us.

"Thank you for inviting Natalie and me to be a part of this grand occasion. Surely you don't think I have a sermon today. You two could teach us more about life and love than anything I could ever say. We're here to seal the vows you have already made to each other. So let me just say...

At this point we were interrupted. I felt arms going around my leg and looked down to see Al's daughter Mary Ann holding me. I took her hand and announced to Luk and all present that this was my Maid of Honor. I looked down at her to assure her all was well.

With a smile, Luk continued,

"You have experienced the joys and sorrows of life through many years on this earth. You have loved before. Hamish, you married and have a beautiful family who are with us today. Ruth, you have your family with you today too, not the least of which is this sweet child holding your hand. Now, in a way you could never have predicted or expected you have been brought together with a love and a joy as fresh as your youth. Ruth and Hamish I only have one question to ask you both. Will you pledge yourselves to be faithful with a love that will endure the rest of your days?"

And so it was that in a moment of time we looked at each other and said words that our eyes already expressed. Luk urged a kiss and we heartily complied. It was time to join our friends in the big room and celebrate.

Judith had discovered other musicians at High Trees and they had a quintet of strings and piano plus Judith's flute. Thankfully it was mainly us older folk present as I do not think young people would have favored our music. A few did dance and Hamish and I did fulfill our duty and danced a waltz. Louisa even talked Martin into getting out on the floor a bit. He was a good sport, because I know how he detests these affairs. I feared a diatribe at any moment about the harm we were causing ourselves eating the food.

Mr. Hennessy, who is the director of High Trees, happily took over as the spokesperson. Thus there were toasts and comments. He finally said it was time for the wedding cake, but first there was a surprise. Unknown to any of us he and his wife Margaret had cooked this up, literally. She is a love and we all call her Maggie. Suddenly from the kitchen one could hear the unmistakable sound of the bellows of a highland pipe filling. Mr. Hennesy then with great flourish announced,

"I present to you the _groom's haggis!"_

The piper began playing Scotland the Brave and led a small parade from the kitchen with Maggie carrying a silver tray with a haggis centered between flowers and fruit. They were piped around the room twice and finally the haggis ended up on the table next to the cake.

I turned to Hamish and firmly said, "Hamish, if you try to feed me that stuff I will take back my vows. You have been warned."

To my surprise quite a few partook of the haggis. Part of a bloody Scottish plot to undermine good food, I say. But of course everyone ate cake which was yellow and rich and moist with a butter-cream icing.

They were passing out small pouches of rice which I assumed would be cast over us as we left the hall. I was sitting next to Natalie, Luk's wife. She leaned over and said, "You know Ruth rice is symbolic of prosperity and fertility. It's so you will be blessed with many children to help work the land."

"That's a good one. Who do they think we are, Sarah and Abraham?"

We had eaten. We had danced. We had been well-wished into weariness. It was time to leave and they lined us up behind the piper who piped us out to Martin's car. Of course we had to march through a gauntlet of laughter and frivolous rice throwing.

Martin was to take us to our hotel where we would stay until Wednesday. Wednesday morning Martin would pick us up early and we would drive to Aberdeen. Louisa and Joan were to leave for a holiday in France.

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The white gown lay in a gentle heap on the beautiful Turkish rug surrounding our bed.

I always awaken early despite when I go to bed. The early dawn was filtering through the curtains and I watched Hamish gently breathing and the beautiful room in which we found our selves ensconced. I can't believe I had not wanted a wedding to begin with. In the end I was quite emotional. Breaking the Ellingham mold I suppose. If Martin could do it, so could I and it appeared we had. A lovely day...and an even more memorable night. And here we were dressed in what God had graced us with upon our birth, waking up on our first morning as husband and wife. I was reminded of something Luk had told Emily and James; that they would always have someone to lie down beside and someone to wake up with. I remember hoping that they were as happy as we are.

Martin had simply let us out at the entrance to this hotel _cum_ palace. We were welcomed and grandly escorted to our beautiful room, which I know Louisa had chosen. To have had to check in would have been too plebeian, I assume. You would have thought Elizabeth and Phillip had come down from London.

It seemed fitting to be in this old hotel. We were old, weren't we? But like this hotel I hoped we were old like a 21 year old Glenlivet is old. Magnificently old. The brass and wood and wrought iron was not shiny and new but carried the patina of the touch of a thousand hands.

Ascending the wide carpeted staircase one could almost see one's face in the pressed metal ceiling had seen many a bride and groom pass through these halls wondering what life would bring. Here Hamish and I were in the same passages, wondering what life still had to offer.

The heavy door closed behind us and we were finally alone. Hamish took my hand and we embraced. He said, "Hello, Wife."

"Yes, hello to you Husband.

We realized that we were quite physically and emotionally spent. "Does that bed look as good to you as it does to me?" We simply removed our shoes and laid down on top of the sumptuous bedcovers and fell asleep. It is a wonder we did not sleep through the night, but around nine or ten we awakened, just as the sun was setting.

"Well, this doesn't seem very honeymoonish, does it?"

"Hamish, we were knackered. I was ready to get away from High Trees long before we did finally leave. I feel a bit rested now. Why don't you call for some tea and sandwiches and we can begin to enjoy this. I'm going to get out of this dress."

I got out of bed and went to open my bag to get my dressing gown. Upon opening it I discovered an elegantly wrapped gift which someone had slipped in unbeknownst to me. Hamish was in the loo so I had time to open it. On top was a card with a note in Louisa's unmistakable hand. "Wrap yourself in this so Hamish will have a gift to unwrap." I lifted out the garment and it was a beautiful full length white gown of the softest fabric imaginable. I heard the door of the loo, quickly hid the gown and pulled out my dressing gown.

When I had washed a bit and got comfy, I came out and there was a trolley with a china tea service and plates with light sandwiches, pastries and fruit. We had a small sitting room and enjoyed our supper watching the sun set through the large double window. When one looked back into the room the sun was reflecting in the armoire mirror and bathing the room in its glow. We sat for a long while savouring our tea and the evening. The lights were not on so we were slowly enveloped in darkness. Then the stars began coming out and by the time we went in and closed the curtain the sky was brilliant.

Lying here in the early dawn I thought how pleased Louisa would be that the gown had the desired effect. I had read articles, popular and scholarly, that spoke of romance among the older set. The past two years has been about the joining of souls which made this day so special. It seems deep romantic feelings are hardly only for the young. When Hamish first came to Portwenn that spring, we greeted each other quite formally in front of the others. They had no way of knowing, as Hamish and I confessed to each other, that our hearts fell on the floor and it took us quite some time to find them. So yes there are always articles and surveys about intimacy and old folk. All I can say is that it is bloody better felt than told.

I felt a hand on my arm and a kiss on my forehead. Slowly I realized that, awash in my thoughts, I had fallen back asleep.

"You always wake up before I do."

"I did, quite some time ago, but went back to sleep. I feel rested now after...well _you know_."

"Of course I know. And I know there are no return plane tickets in hand. We are together now Ruth, and I hope you are as glad as I am. We can enjoy this place for two days before we go home to Aberdeen. I think we should dress and go have a full English breakfast and then we'll take a walk."

"Oh yes, let's do that. But Hamish don't try to feed me black pudding. You can stuff it with your haggis."

"Ruth, it's sad that none of my wives have had my tastes in good food."

"It is to your credit that you have married intelligent women."

So we cuddled a bit and finally hunger got the best of us and we decided to dress and go down to breakfast. If we were taking a walk I wanted comfort so wore black trousers and a silk overblouse. Hamish put on kakis and wore his tweed jacket over a blue polo shirt I had given him. We both had really good walking shoes. Who knows if we would ever wear our "wedding" shoes again. We descended to the dining room which was sparsely populated. Most folk had already eaten. I let Hamish have his full English but I wanted cream tea with splits and scones and rasberry jam.

It was a clear morning and while not really warm it was not uncomfortable as long as we were walking. Everything was so green and so many flowers were in full bloom. The heather covered the hills around the hotel. Upon returning we walked around the hotel gardens profuse in color and beauty, especially the roses. We had been out perhaps two hours and Hamish said,

"You know Ruth, we could go upstairs and rest a bit and... _you know_."

"Yes, Hamish, _I know_."

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If you were to go to Pinterest and search Ralph McCluggage/Doc Martin Board you would be able to see Ruth's wedding dress. Emily's dress is also there.


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER THIRTY ONE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**I remind you that these thoughts and remembrances have their source in the musings and conversations of Louisa and Joan who are on holiday in France. We rejoin them in this chapter.**

**CHAPTER THIRTY ONE**

After several days in Paris we were ready to be away from the city. We were country girls, after-all. I had mentioned to Joan that we should stay a bit longer than planned since nothing was pressing on us to return home. Well, nothing except Martin, of course. She was enthused to have more days together in France. She was also more than enthused that I would be the one to inform her father of our plans. Our last night in Paris I called Martin. In the course of the conversation I told him of our plans. His response was predictable, but not direct of course. He would never say he simply wanted us home.

"Louisa, I just am not sure that is a good idea. Are you sure the car will hold up? Joan should be here to care for her horse. Besides, I thought you had some loose ends to tie up following the wedding. Have you actually thought this through? Where will you be staying? It's much better to plan ahead so you can check on the reliability of lodging. Where will you be?"

"Actually, we thought we would just meander through Normandy on the less-travelled roads. I imagine we will stay in some bed and breakfasts in small villages."

"Louisa, you cannot be certain of cleanliness in those places. You don't even know if they washed the bed clothes after the last guests used them. There's no telling what vermin and insects may be present."

"Oh, my dear Martin, it will be fine. We want to end up on the coast visiting the memorials for D-Day and the British cemetery at Bayeux. I know you want us home Love. I promise when we return, you and I will have a few days to ourselves. Why don't you see when our favorite cottage* on the coast is available. Be a dear now, and don't take it too hard. Joan and I are so enjoying our time together. Have you heard from James?"

"No, of course not. I really don't expect to. I suppose I must reluctantly give in to your wishes. Do call me when you get settled tonight."

And so it was that we found ourselves that afternoon in Villequier, a small nondescript town, at least as far as the tourist brochures were concerned. We thought it quaint and just what we were looking for. We found a house with a room and bath to let. It was small but adequate and the owners Monsieur and Madame Baptiste, were lovely. Gratefully, Joan could communicate. Being only a two hour drive from Paris, we had a good bit of time in the afternoon and took a leisurely walk.

As we walked the hanging baskets of fuchsia and begonia were dripping water from an earlier shower onto the cobblestones. Laundry drying on lines could be seen behind the houses. It was as if we had stepped into another era. Cars were parked here and there but seemed embarrassed to be out of place. A stark reality invaded my mind as I thought about jack-booted soldiers commanding these streets and the peaceful citizens. The peaceful setting belied the suffering that had to have taken place. I guess this was on my mind since I had talked with my dad about visiting the war memorials.

"Mum, where are you? I think I've lost you again. It seems like when we are walking your mind is in its own universe."

"I'm sorry Joan. I am playing Word Association in my head. One thought leads to another and I'm in another world. Do you remember when we took you and James to see the Imperial War Museum in London?"

"Of course I do. How could you forget that? I wish I could erase some of those images from my mind. In year six we had to read poems about war by Wilfred Owen. They were so real and stark. It was hard to finish the assignment."

"Your dad and I wanted you to know why you enjoy such a good life now. It was not an accident and it was not without great cost. These people here experienced something we never did at home."

"What was that? It was pretty bad at home, wasn't it?"

They had German troops here hurting and harassing. By some miracle and great effort they were prevented from crossing the Channel. We will see the war memorials on the coast in two days."

"I don't think we who are young think about that much. There are always wars and fighting, but they're far away."

"Alright daughter, enough of that for now. We will have supper with our hosts tonight, but I could fancy a sweet." I looked at the time. "Well there you are I knew it was time for tea. Let's find a cafe. Now the center of town must be in that direction. I hope I'm right."

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Madame Baptiste prepared a very nice supper of veal stew. She invited Mum and me to sit at table with her and her husband. It really stretched my conversing in French but we were able to enjoy each other in this very small but welcoming home. They apologized for the small bathroom and in the course of speaking of that explained that the door was once a bookcase hiding a room where the Resistance in World War Two coordinated efforts against the Nazis. This begged for questions and conversation and Mum asked Monsieur Baptiste if he would tell us more over breakfast.

We had begun our day in Paris and walked a good bit so excused ourselves. We were more than ready to lie down and sleep.

"Mum, I am really tired. I know you have to be exhausted. Why don't you take your bath first?"

So it was not long before Mum came out of the bathroom. There was no room to dry off and dress so she stepped on to the carpet in the bedroom to finish drying and put on her night clothes.

At this point a word about decorum in the Ellingham house is in order. One was to always be dressed appropriate to the occasion. To come to the table not fully groomed and dressed warranted a return trip to remedy the fault. Thankfully Dad did not require of us what he took for granted for himself. Mum said she remembered a time when he went into the woods to treat a patient in his suit and tie and wing tips. There was the day when James ran from his room in only his pants to get a quick snack from the kitchen. He was apprehended on the return trip and let's just say at that point he was grateful the bastille was a French institution.

With Mum and I it was somewhat different. At times we showered together when I was a child. So for her to come into the room disrobed did not affect our comfort level at all. But as many times as I had seen Mum in this state, I do not know why this night my eyes fell to her chest. I was overwhelmed with a feeling I had to express.

"Mum, you are the bravest woman I could ever know!"

As she pulled up her knickers and slipped on a night shirt she said, "Joan, what in the world brought that on?"

"I know I've seen you a hundred times but seeing you tonight just brings it all back for some reason I can't explain. What you went through was so hard and so amazing."

"Well, Joanie, I can tell you when I think about it, "brave" is not the word I would use. It was a time of fear for me. I wanted to grow old with your father and see you and James grow up. I was so afraid that might not happen. I could never have survived it all without my family and our friends."

"But how Mum? How could you deal with losing part of what makes you a woman? I would think it would still weigh on you. I mean, it is a big deal, isn't it?"

"No Joan, it's not. I can't say I didn't have many mixed emotions at the time. At times I was an emotional wreck, but what makes you a woman is in your soul, deep within you. Let me tell you about the big deal. I have not had any evidence of cancer in my body in over ten years. That's the big deal. I had dinner with Monsieur and Madame Baptiste in Villequier, France tonight. My husband kisses my scars and tells me I am beautiful and I believe him. But I do not put down your compliment. If I was brave, it was with your help."

"Oh Mum, I love you so much."

"I know you do and it means so much. I am going to crawl into bed now. Why don't you get get a quick bath and join me? We can look forward to a few unscheduled days wandering through Normandy."

"Good. I won't be long. Good night Mum."

"Good night Joan."

And as Louisa laid her head on her pillow that night it was impossible for her not to recall the words of the physician that day that seems so distant now. "Mrs. Ellingham we believe that a bilateral mastectomy will yield the best possible results."

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*In the story _A Long Way_ Martin and Louisa meet at a quaint cottage on the Cornwall coast. I have that cottage in mind here.


	32. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER THIRTY TWO REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

It was a Saturday night in October. I remember because we had been preparing for the Autumn Fayre at school and I was exhausted. I decided I would have a good soak. James said he was going to get online with his friend Emily and Joan was in her room, reading I think. Martin was in the sitting area of our bedroom reading. I could luxuriate in my bath with no interruptions.

The adage _"The shoemaker's children never have shoes."_ did not apply in our family. Martin was more than attentive to our medical needs. We all had the proper check-ups, vaccinations and tests at the appropriate intervals. I had an annual mammogram and, while there was not the emphasis on self-examination as in the past, Martin still insisted that I check my breasts from time to time. He always said, "When you know what normal feels like you will note more readily when something is wrong."

On that evening in the bath it was easy for me to quickly check my breasts. I hadn't done so in awhile so decided to do it. Nothing else to do. Just lying relaxed with my head on a foam pillow. I quickly perked up when my fingers detected a small lump in my right breast.

I wasn't the first time I had felt something like this. When I was much younger I had what the doctor called fibroadenomas, but I had not felt something like this in years. This was about the size of a pea and did not hurt. The lumps I had before were painful and benign. Most just went away but I had to have two removed surgically. This was something that was not normal. I would like to have prevented it, but a worrisome thought entered my mind. So much for relaxing.

I dried off and put on my dressing gown. I joined Martin in the bedroom and interrupted his reading. "Martin, I need you to check something. I found a small lump in my breast."

I would like to have prevented the worry from entering Martin's mind, but when it came to the health of his family I knew that to be impossible. "Louisa, are you certain? Sit with me on the sofa and show me."

Martin felt the area I showed him and proceeded to examine both breasts thoroughly, while seated and then on the bed while lying down. He told me, "Louisa, I only note the one place you mentioned. It is likely a cyst or fibroid. I will change my schedule for Tuesday morning and we will go to hospital for an ultrasound. Probably nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about," he said. I knew my husband and I know from his words and countenance that he was no happier than I that this had turned up.

So Monday evening we had told the children we had to make a quick trip to Truro the next day and would return mid afternoon. It was Joan who asked what they both were thinking.

"But why are you going in the middle of the week. Won't you be at school tomorrow? And Dad, what about your surgery schedule?"

Martin responded as vaguely as he could. "I have to consult with my colleague Seymour Boynton and your Mother has a routine test. We thought to simply get both things out of the way."

James and Joan conversed more than most siblings, I think. I regretted Martin mentioning Mr. Boynton's name. I could imagine James checking his computer for information. In the muted conversation behind James's closed door I know they were telling each other that this was not routine. The complete silence about the subject over breakfast confirmed this.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

I was lying on a table with my hands stretched above my head. The technician applied a warm gel to my breast and began moving over it with what she called a transducer. Mr. Boynton had invited Martin to be present and they were viewing a screen and conversing.

"Ah, there is the mass your wife discovered. It appears to be solid and no water present. Helen, please slowly go over the breast once again...There, toward the lower left quadrant there appears to be a micro calcification. Can you see it, Martin. Definitely suspicious."

I had enough of being talked about instead of being talked to. "Alright, you are discussing me. Perhaps you could _communicate with me._ What is going on? And what is definitely suspicious?" I had not had a peaceful moment since Saturday night and, lying here, my anxiety was climbing up the scale rapidly. "Come on! Out with it. What do you see?"

As Helen, the tech was wiping away the gel and covering me, Mr. Boynton turned from the screen and wheeled his chair where he could talk to me. "Mrs. Ellingham the hard place you discovered needs to be biopsied. There is another area that I called "suspicious" and I think it should be examined."

"_Martin_!"

Martin stood beside me and took my hand. He turned to Mr. Boynton. "Seymour, how soon can this be done? We would like to know what we are dealing with."

"It may be possible to do it by late this afternoon. We will have to do some rearranging. Since I will have to do a stereotactic biopsy of the calcification I will use the same

computation to locate the nodule and do a core biopsy of it."

It was 6:30 before we left the hospital. We drove back to Portwenn lost in our own thoughts. I suppose we should have talked but I think we were both afraid and did not know what to say. The consultant had told me that the lump I had felt was probably cancerous and we would know about the other area within two days. We were half the distance home when Martin, out of the blue, asked me, "Louisa, did your mother have breast cancer?"

"No, Martin. At least I don't think so. But, how would I know, huh? I mean, the woman comes once a year to see her grandchildren. I couldn't believe she invited them to spend a week with her in Spain last summer. On second thought, I have no idea whether she has had cancer."

"Louisa, it is important that we know. You need to talk with her and find out."

"But why, Martin. What does her having had cancer have to do with me? Either I have it or I don't and if I do we'll just have to deal with it. It doesn't concern my mother."

"Just find out, Louisa. Call her and find out. When all the tests are in it will become evident why this is important, but Mr. Boynton asked me and said it was vital to know."

"But why Martin? Explain yourself." I could tell he was being intentionally vague.

Suddenly Martin was braking and pulling over to the shoulder. "Louisa, a tractor has overturned. This is Jim Davies's farm."

I looked and some 50 meters in the field to our right was a red tractor on its side, the wheel still turning. Martin was already out of the car with his medical bag in hand running. Knowing he might need my assistance I grabbed my phone and started walking quickly toward the accident.

As I drew close Martin commanded loudly, "Louisa, call an ambulance! Tell them there is an accident victim with numerous injuries." At that point Martin was trying to talk to the man I saw lying on the ground covered in mud and blood.

I was trying to speak with the ambulance service when Martin interrupted. "Louisa, there is a child. Look for a child!"

I had to shut him out for a moment. Once the ambulance was secured I asked him what he had said. "Louisa, there is a child somewhere. Mr. Davies said his son was with him on the tractor. I can't leave Jim. _You must find the boy!"_

After what was probably only a few minutes, that seemed an eternity, I saw a red-shirted child that looked like a rag doll simply dropped in place. He was in a small depression and I knelt beside him and could hear him faintly whimpering. It was Sam Davies. Sam was in year 3 at Portwenn Primary. "Martin, I found him. He is alive but in quite bad shape."

"If he's bleeding, apply pressure. Don't move him but try to keep him warm. I'm sure he is in severe shock. We have to wait for help. I cannot leave Mr. Davies or he will bleed out."

I had a light jacket but it wouldn't cover the boy. I decided to lie close to him and let my body heat keep him warm. The ambulance finally arrived and both the man and the boy were attended to and placed in the vehicle. Martin felt he had to accompany them.

"Sorry Louisa, but Jim's survival is at stake here. I can't be sure about the boy. You need to inform Mrs. Davies."

As I drove to the Davies's farm I knew I could not allow Rose to drive herself to Truro, and of course I did not. It was after ten o'clock when Martin and I left the hospital. At that point both Mr. Davies and Sam were stable and Rose was with Sam. Martin had pinched a couple of scrubs we could change into. We finally settled into a room at the County Arms Hotel. There was just no way we could drive back to Portwenn. We were totally spent both physically and emotionally. Before leaving for hospital with Rose I had called the children and informed them of what we were doing. Finally at the hotel, we called them again and let them know they would need to fend for themselves and we would be home in the morning.`

After a hot shower, which was cleansing in so many ways, we put on the towelling robes provided by the hotel. We sat down on the sofa and Martin embraced me. To me it was the permission I needed to simply let go. The adrenalin was gone and all the emotions of the day spilled over. I cried into his chest. Correction. I bawled and bawled. When I thought there were no more tears I simply stayed there shaking and trying to catch my breath.

"Martin, I am afraid. I am so afraid. Please be strong for me."

"Louisa, I don't want to make a promise I cannot keep. We dealt with a crisis tonight. We will face this other thing in the same way. Together. That I can promise you. Please let me take you to bed. We need to sleep."

We removed the robes and crawled under the soft duvet. I put my legs over my husband's legs and my head on his chest.

"Oh Martin, I love you so much."

"Louisa, you are my life."


	33. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER THIRTY THREE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER THIRTY THREE**

"Mum. This is Louisa calling. How are you?"

"Lou Lou, my little girl. Oh, you know, life goes on. Felipe and I have our fusses but he takes good care of me and we always make up. What about you there? How are James and Joan? You have great kids, Lou. We had a good time last summer. But, hey, you never call me. What's going on? Is someone sick? Are the children alright?"

"We're okay, Mum. I've been having some tests and the doctor wanted me to ask you if you'd ever had breast cancer. So, have you?"

"That was so long ago. I never think about it. Yes, I had cancer in one of my breasts, well, it must be at least 10 years ago now. They did a, oh what did they call it, a lump something. You can hardly see the scar now. My tits look pretty good for an old lady. But hey, why are you asking me? You said something about tests. You don't have cancer, do you?"

"Mum, they are just doing some tests. I'll let you know what they find out, OK?"

"Louisa, I could come be with you. Do you want me to come?"

"No Mum, not now. I will let you know what happens. Tell Felipe we say hello. I'll call you when I know more. Bye, bye."

"Okay Luv, cheerio. Don't forget to call me."

It was Thursday night following our horrendous Tuesday. We had received the lab results from my biopsy late Wednesday afternoon. There were difficult days ahead, we knew, after receiving this news. Both areas of my right breast were malignant. I had feared the worst, but was still stunned by the confirming report. A couple learns to read each other. My default signal of concern and uncertainty is my lower lip in my teeth. I could read Martin's mood. He had appeared upset since Tuesday. He was much more silent than usual and when he did speak he was brief and brusque. I think yesterday's results were a confirmation of what he already believed to be the case. We were in our room following supper, which was not out usual routine. The children were in the living room watching the telly. I remember Martin's words.

"It is a time like this when one wishes he were not a physician. It's not right for me to withhold information from you, but I really want you to hear it from Mr. Boynton and the surgeon.

You do realize that you will need to have this removed surgically?"

"I feared as much Martin. Can I have a lumpectomy so my breast can be preserved?"

"I'll be honest with you. Because the cancer is multifocal they will most likely need to do a modified radical mastectomy. Let's not go into details now. William Mason is an oncological surgeon I worked with in London. He has moved to Truro to be close to his wife's aging parents and to slow down a bit. He'd become weary of the pace in London. If it were not for his being in Truro I would want us to go to London for the surgery, but William is as good as there is. I wouldn't entrust you to any less than his hands and mind. Seymour has made arrangements for us to meet with him tomorrow afternoon."

Inside I was screaming "_Nooooo!_" I had to hold it in as the children were downstairs. But my eyes were overflowing and Martin had to hold me. I wanted him to tell me more about what to expect, but he was hesitant to go into detail, and wanted to wait until our meeting Friday.

"Martin I was afraid Tuesday but now I'm even more fearful. What are we to do and what of the children?"

"Louisa, you're the one facing this, but we will deal with it together. Now, as for the children we need to go downstairs and explain what's happening. They need to know as their fears can be worse than the reality."

"The reality is pretty scary Martin. But I want them to go with us to Truro. They can't attend school tomorrow with this on their mind and I do not want them to be left home alone."

"Louisa, are you sure that is a sound idea?"

"It is what it is Martin. I would like to shield them, but they have no choice but to go through this with us. See if the County Arms has a suite with separate bedrooms. We can spend the night in Truro and come home on Saturday. I admit this is my head and not my heart speaking but we are not going to crawl into a cave over this. Let's go down and talk with them."

"No, no Mummy. Oh Mummy, you can't be sick." Joan was instantly in my lap with tears when we told them of our journey the next day and that I would likely have surgery for cancer.

And we all knew that journey was much more than going from Portwenn to Truro. Atypically, James was very quiet and pensive. I wish I knew what he was thinking. We told the children that they would be going with us but that they would have to remain at the hotel while we met with the doctors.

I was not as worried about this meeting as I was of the first session with Mr. Boynton. I had no doubt that the days ahead would be filled with much difficulty, but I was praying, yes praying, for a result that gave me life with my family for many years to come. Friday afternoon found us in a comfortable room at Royal Cornwall Hospital. Present were Martin and me and Mr. Boynton, the radiologist, and Martin's colleague William Mason .

Martin spoke first. "Seymour, William, thank you both for working it out to meet with us this quickly. Obviously we would like to know what our options are so we can make decisions and get on with Louisa's treatment. What are your findings and opinions?"

Mr. Boynton, the radiologist responded first, "Martin, Mrs. Ellingham, we have a good picture of what we are dealing with. I know you have seen the report, Martin. The lump you detected, Mrs. Ellingham, is malignant, but also the other area we found on ultrasound is cancerous. The technical term is infiltrating ductal adenocarcinoma or infiltrating ductal cancer. It is good that you have detected this early as the cells are quite abnormal and would be what we would term Grade Three, which means they grow more rapidly. We will need to do a sentinel lymph node biopsy which can be done during surgery. William, give us your thinking and recommendation."

"Yes, thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Ellingham. We could all wish it were under different circumstances, but we will deal with this head-on and work to have you back to life as you want it as soon as possible. Being multi focal, and the two areas not being in close proximity indicates a modified radical mastectomy. And I must tell you that given the risk factors in your case, Mrs. Ellingham, we believe that a bilateral mastectomy will yield the best possible results."

He stopped talking and allowed his words to carry their full weight. I had to think a moment before asking him the questions that began to flood my mind. My first one was the most obvious. "Mr. Mason, why both breasts. You only detected cancer in one, right?"

"You are correct. And this is a judgement on our part. You and your husband will have the final say. The affected breast must be removed, and soon. Given your risk factors, especially the fact that your mother had breast cancer, there is every possibility that the other breast will become infected."

"Do you think it has spread? Will I have to have chemotherapy?"

"Well, checking the sentinel lymph node in your axilla will tell us. We likely will not take out lymph nodes if they are involved but will treat them with chemotherapy. I would imagine that chemotherapy will be indicated in any case just to be certain that we've destroyed all the abnormal or cancerous cells."

I may not have been as fearful going into this meeting, but now the fear was growing in me exponentially. I spoke again. "Frankly, my mind is so overwhelmed with what you have told me I am not even certain of questions I need to ask."

Mr. Mason handed me a card. "Mrs. Ellingham this card has my personal number on it. Please call me any time you have any questions or concerns. _Any time_, please. I insist. One issue is the matter of reconstruction. You'll have to decide if you want to have surgery to reconstruct your breast or breasts. It certainly is not a cut-and-dried decision. There are many factors to consider. I'm sure Martin is aware of some of these. Together you can consider them and come to a decision. It could be begun at the time of the mastectomy, but I believe if you decide on reconstruction it would be wiser to do it under the care of a plastic surgeon in London to whom I would refer you."

Through all of this Martin had stared at a spot on the floor three feet in front of his chair. His expression had not changed. It was as if he were in a stoic trance, but I know he had taken in every word. It was Mr. Boynton who brought him into the discussion. "Martin, what are you thinking? Are there concerns or thoughts you want to bring to the table?"

"No, not really. Both of you have been clear as to what the situation is. It's also clear the decisions Louisa and I have to make. We'll make them by midweek as we want to schedule surgery for as soon as possible. I do trust your judgement so our way seems quite clear and will become clearer with surgery and the axilla node biopsies. Thank you for your willingness to work with us."

It was Mr. Mason who closed our conversation. "Martin and...may I call you Louisa? I've been quite clinical in my explanations and needed to be, I believe. I want you to be clear what we are dealing with. But, and this is important, to us this is more than a medical situation. Martin, you and Seymour and I are colleagues and friends. We offer you every concern and assistance that we may offer. If there is anything at all that we can do to make this easier, please tell us."

Thankfully Martin responded as I was too emotional to speak. "Thank you very much William and to you also Seymour. We'll call you the first of the week so we can proceed."

Back at the hotel we sat with James and Joan and explained to them as simply as possible what was going to take place. It was Joan again who was the responsive one but instead of querying about my surgery she said, "Mum, may we go to church Sunday so we can pray?"

"We could do that Joan, but one does not need to be in church to pray."

But Martin very forcefully said, "Joan, yes. We will attend service at St. Endellion on Sunday."

I then said, "Of course we will. If it is okay with you all, let's not talk any more about this right now. There will be much talking, but not tonight. Let's go eat supper. I have my family together and that's all that matters."

It is quite amazing that a couple in times of extreme tension come together in the most passionate intimacy. It is not thought about. It is not initiated. It simply overwhelms.

Upon returning to the hotel following supper I prepared hot chocolate in the small kitchen. We often did this in the evening after the autumn weather begins to be chilly. Afterwards we retired to our rooms. We were all emotionally exhausted. It felt as if we had done a day's work with a Portwenn fisherman. The children would probably watch the telly. Martin and I were so wiped out I think we could have fallen into bed with our clothes on and slept until morning.

We did shower and prepare for bed. Other than the drive from the hospital to the hotel, this was the first time we had been alone. I decided to resolve the issue of our beginning to discuss all the matters brought up in the meeting today.

"Martin, I'm so tired and I know you must be too. We can reason and talk more clearly with rest. Let's table all of this for the night and sleep. Alright?"

"Of course, Louisa. Of course."

With that we slipped into bed under the duvet. Early in our marriage Martin was either totally passionate, body and soul, or he simply would give me a peck on the cheek or lips when we went to sleep or he left the house. He came to learn that a good night peck is different than a good night kiss. For many years now his good night kiss has been gentle, firm and for a brief moment our lips are softly joined as one. This night was no different. We were lying, facing each other and he kissed me good night. We separated and looked into each other's eyes and he kissed me again but this time it was not brief. Suddenly we melted into each other.

Was it just the release of tension after this emotionally ladened day? Were we subconsciously fearing loss? Was it that we did not want the day to end with a medical consult on our mind?

Our faces parted again and Martin's eyes were wet. This triggered my tear ducts. He gently put his hand inside my gown and cupped my breast in his soft and gentle hand. Really it was not my breast in his hand, but my heart. How could this man ever have thought he did not deserve me? How, in fact, had I deserved such a good man? Our lips met once again and we became one in the beautiful dance that practiced lovers share.

Completely spent we simply laid holding each other. My last thoughts before we drifted into a sound and dreamless sleep were that somehow we would get through this. My worry from the day was put on the shelf. Together we would get through it.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR**

"Louisa, I wouldn't try tell you what to do. They can do a great job now and I can tell you my breasts look pretty good for not being the originals. It's just that it has never felt normal. There's a tightness in my chest that I know I will just have to live with. It's not painful, but it is always there. Would I do it again? I don't know. Maybe not. It's not a decision you can make twice. But hey, your husband is a doctor. What does he say?"

"Martin said he would not give me his opinion until I had thought about it myself first. I've been reading and talking to people like you who have had breast cancer. I wish he would tell me but he won't, at least not yet."

"Well, what are you thinking? Are you going to do it?"

"I don't know Tamara. _ I just don't know_!"

Tamara Walker was one of four women from Portwenn with whom I had spoken about having reconstruction after my surgery. Patient confidentiality kept Martin from telling me everyone he knew who had gone through breast cancer, but in a small town I was pretty sure I knew most of the women who had experienced it. I would have my surgery within a week and I still had not made up my mind. Only one of the four was totally positive about the experience. It was hard for me to think about just having two scars on my chest. I still wanted to speak with Mandie Boskano because she had gone through a mastectomy less than a year ago. I went to her house one Tuesday morning after her kids were in school and Billy was out on the boat.

"Louisa, I hate you have to go through this. It will be okay but it's no walk in the park. I will do anything I can to help you."

"Mandie, I just can't decide whether or not to have reconstruction. What do you think? You look pretty normal to me. Must have gone well for you."

Mandie laughed as she replied, "Oh, that is quite a compliment but what you see are nothing but the equivalent of socks in the bra. Remember that when we were teens? I chose not to have reconstruction. After looking at the pros and cons I just did not want to do it."

"But don't you miss your breast? How is it living with nothing there?"

"Louisa, how could I miss what was going to kill me? And you know what? My Billy doesn't treat me any different. He doesn't look at me funny when I take my clothes off. I know he loves me, and that's all that matters. Listen, I know your Martin and he will love you no matter what. He will be just like my Billy. You don't have to worry about that. Isn't life weird? I worried about the size of my breasts when I was a teenager, and now I am down to one."

At first I thought that reconstruction would be the natural thing to do. No decision required really. Martin gave me some articles and I researched on the computer. I read what the British Association for Cancer Research presented. Martin was glad to clarify he just wouldn't give me his opinion as to what my decision should be. As I began to look at the options I realized my simple conclusion was clouded by many factors. It seemed there were two basic options. Most seemed to go for an implant of saline or silicone that is placed under the skin that has been expanded to accept the device. It is possible to use one's own tissue and muscle taken from a leg or stomach area to form a new breast. Complications are always a possibility and the whole process could take up to a year to complete. Then I looked at what they do to recreate the nipple and areole area. In some cases it is done with creative tattooing. One comment from the cancer society kept coming to mind. "The reconstructed breast will likely never have the feeling or sensitivity of your original breast." I wanted Martin's thinking and whatever it took I was going to force him to tell me.

"Martin, alright, I've talked to my friends. I've read and read and read about this. You know, I am as confused as ever. I just don't know. What do you think I should do?"

"Louisa, I would like to know what you think."

"The thing that keeps coming back to me is that the new breasts will never look or feel like my own breasts. But if there is nothing but scars then I fear you will see me as disfigured or ugly. I know it is silly, but I can't get it out of my head."

"You will always be my beautiful Louisa. _Always_! I don't know what more I can do to take away those fears." We were sitting on the sofa and Martin took my head in both of his hands and kissed me fully. "I just don't know what more I can do."

"I think you just did. Frankly, I'm leaning against having the procedure."

"Your reservations are well founded. In swimwear or low-cut clothing the natural curve of a restored breast would look as it should, but uncovered you would be able to tell it was surgically restored."

"That's a real issue here, isn't it, knowing how much I like to wear my bikini in Portwenn," said I with twinkle in my eye.

So with that short conversation we came to a firm decision. I would not have breast reconstruction. I told Martin, "So this time next week I guess my cup size will be decided by how many socks I want to stuff in my bra."

"Whatever are you talking about Louisa?"

"Oh, I'm just thinking about something one of your favorite people told me."


	35. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

It is the day of Louisa's surgery and Natalie Jacobs, her very good friend from America, has come to be with her and Martin.

**CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE**

Louisa had called me as soon as she had found the lump in her breast. When it was determined surgery would be necessary, I decided that I would travel to be with her. She insisted, of course, that it wasn't necessary, but of course it was necessary. I do not have a sister, but no sisters could love each other more than the care Louisa and I feel for each other. It seems so long ago now since we moved to Portwenn so my husband Luk could be the priest of the local Anglican parish. It turned out that the local chemist wanted to sell her shop and we decided to purchase it and I would become the pharmacist. I had to jump through some hoops to be licensed in the UK, but it all worked out quite nicely. I met Louisa and baby James early on. We had an infant daughter, Emily, and Louisa and I became close quickly.

The surprising thing is that my husband Luk and Martin also became friends. Yes friends. Now it was not amazing for my husband who never met a stranger, but Martin Ellingham almost prided himself in the fact that he had no friends. He might have said he didn't need them. Somehow Martin and Luk found common ground and common interests. The family even attended church from time to time. They had philosophical and theological discussions, sometimes after reading some book. Martin said he needed to listen to Luk's sermons to keep him honest and critique him if he spouted any esoteric gibberish.

Eventually we moved back to the States, but our bond of friendship had not weakened. Louisa and I were pregnant for our second babies at the same time. We visit by phone frequently and Martin and Luk still carry on correspondence, quite often after reading a book or article that Luk has suggested. And these days our daughter Emily and James have been talking on the phone and computer. When we lived in Portwenn we used to joke that it would be wonderful for James and Emily to join our families by marrying each other. What are the chances of that, right? They are making plans for Emily to visit for a month in the summer, but with these medical issues that may not happen.

We were in a small waiting room at hospital. Knowing Louisa's surgery would take several hours Martin had sent Ruth and the children off to get something to eat. He spoke to me.

"Natalie, thank you for coming. Wouldn't you like to have some food? We will be here quite some time. I really do not have an appetite myself."

"Nor do I Martin. How was Louisa when you left her?"

I had stayed with the children while Martin was with Louisa until the anesthetist started his work.

"We had a short time of privacy," Martin told me. "She was the brave one. I'm afraid I was the one who was emotional. Oh Natalie, why must it always be Louisa on the table? I would gladly take her place."

"I can assure you Martin, for the next few hours Louisa will not be conscious of what is happening. You, on the other hand, will be experiencing extreme anxiety. Of course, I will too.

The depth of your feelings speak of the depth of your love Martin. And don't you know you two have a love the poets long to describe but often find themselves at a loss for words?"

It was at this point that Martin became very emotional and with broken voice said, "I don't know how I could ever live without her. She is my life. I know she is in good hands, but I am still afraid. I told her once that I couldn't bear to be without her. That was true, I think, from the day I met her. You can't imagine what we have gone through to have what we have now."

"I don't have to imagine it Martin. I _know_ it. Louisa and I know each other like a book. I know of your ups and downs of the leavings and crises and misunderstandings. I have known many couples with lesser issues than you and Louisa have overcome. Often their relationships did not survive. What you and Louisa have had to deal with seemed so insurmountable. Yet you did and you have. If you had gone through shallow depths your fretting could be minor, but your angst is profound precisely because of what you have gone through to come to the love you have for each other."

"And Martin..._Martin."_

"Yes."

"If Louisa is like a sister to me, you have become a brother. I am so sorry you have to go through this. I don't know what to do. I just know I had to catch a plane and be here. And I will stay as long as I'm needed or until you send me home." And with that it was me whose voice was cracking and whose tears were flowing.

As Natalie and I were talking I thought of my comment about why it always seemed to be Louisa who was facing a health crisis. Suddenly events from the past flooded my mind. I had vivid reminders of times when my heart was in my throat. Sometimes it was in the midst of a crisis and other times it was because we were apart and I simply did not know how she was faring. I never fretted about much in life before I moved to Portwenn, but when it comes to Louisa and my family the burden of worry is almost unbearable at times.

Early on whenever Louisa was in view I was watching her. There was the day she was reading to her children down by the Platt. Walking to the chemist's I noticed her, stared actually, and suddenly she simply fell over. My heart leapt and in an instant I was by her side.

Thankfully it was only a fainting spell. So much worse was seeing that taxi crashed against the rock on the moor when she was pregnant. I told her I feared the worst and I truly did. I was leaving her for London and yet the thought of losing her destroyed my defenses and caused me to reevaluate everything. The worst was the day I angered her at sports day and caused her to pursue me into the path of that moving car. I died a thousand deaths thinking she might be dead until I examined her. I could never have forgiven myself. Yet I had caused her much pain and injury. That all lead to the cerebral crisis when she was leaving for Spain and the eventual surgery to correct the arteriovenous malformation.

Perhaps I suffered the most ongoing angst when Louisa was in London for six months. Had I known she was carrying our child I do not think I could have left her on her own even though I thought she did not want anything to do with me. We were both so full of stupid misunderstanding. We reflected on that time later and could not believe we both put ourselves and each other through the worst misery of our lives. And even after she returned to Portwenn the time was still filled with confusion and miscommunication. Natalie was right. It was a bloody miracle that we were able to make a family out of all of those scattered bits.

James Henry helped pull us together when we might have given up. I can never forget the health crisis he faced as an infant. When we feared losing him we were both willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to support him and each other. Our professions meant nothing in the face of the welfare of James...and each other.

And now cancer had invaded our perfect family. It had taken years of growing for Louisa and me to find a balance in our life together. We have two fine children who need their mother. I told her once she would make a wonderful mother and so she has. Now I face another time when I...when we, could lose her to this disease. It is strange coming from me, but I pray that Louisa will survive this and be well again. My good friend Luk told me that reaching out a hand in the dark is as profound a prayer as any eloquent prayer by any saint of the church. Well, it is dark, very dark and I am reaching. By all the saints, I am reaching.


	36. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER THIRTY SIX REMEMBRANCE**

**AM INTERLUDE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

It has been almost a year since I began this story. I am surprised, actually. As we enter the new year we will see what new remembrances there are. More surprises, I imagine.

I am very grateful to you for reading and reviewing. So at this turn of the year I offer you this holiday gift - a chapter with no reference in time. That is because Martin and Louisa have a relationship that is timeless - "timeless with bumps" we might call it. But then that is true for most of us who have lived and loved a good while. It reminds me of a quote from the poet Wendell Berry. "Only the streams that have rocks in them sing."

**CHAPTER THIRTY SIX**

_"Mum, did you and dad sleep on the couch all night?"_

The children were cozily asleep in front of the telly which I had cut off. They looked lovely together. They had so wanted to stay up and see the new year in but sleep overcame them long before midnight. Martin and I were cuddled on the sofa covered with a large soft blanket. A storm raged outside with rain and wind and the waves crashing against the sea rocks. Now and again there were flashes of lightning. It was such a contrast to the flickering fire in our very comfy house. Inside it was amazingly peaceful and quiet. But all of a sudden I detected an intruder. When the house is quiet at night one does not want to hear or sense anything out of the ordinary.

Definitely an intruder in our home and I will say a most welcome intruder. Having spooned himself against me, Martin was embracing me. This marvelous and expanding

intruder was pressing against my bum. With the slightest adjustment of garments "against" became "between" and I hope I was communicating that no written invitation was necessary. Our sharing of intimacy that night was unhurried and beautifully gentle.

I moved to give my sweet husband complete access to my body and my soul. If it were set to music I would have entitled it_ Bolero in Bed._ Wow! Ravel had no Idea what he composed that night. Gradually we moved together in harmony and while we might have wanted the delicious feelings of this Spanish dance to go on forever, the glorious crescendo, as in the musical score, was inevitable. And I must say, it takes my breath away to remember it. That night earth, air, fire and water came together volcanically. There is not other word for it. We descended the mountain ever so slowly and I could detect Martin's vice-like hold on me lessen just a bit. He did not withdraw but gradually his breath relaxed and I could tell he had slipped into a very peaceful sleep. His breath on my neck was a continuation of his spirit embracing and entering me. I wished he could have seen my subtle smile of contentment. And then lying there between awake and asleep I had a vision of another night sky that was indelible in my memory. It was not a stormy sky. It was a winter night when the sky was white with stars.

I was 14 and it was New Years Eve. I was home alone and had found some canned beans to have for supper. I really had no appetite so left half the can on the table. I hadn't even taken time to heat them. Dad was out and I knew how he would come home. I simply went to bed and to sleep early. Suddenly there was a pounding on the door and I jumped up to open it. It had to be Dad. I opened the door and he looked at me in anger.

"Why did you lock me out? Don't lock the door! Do you hear me Louisa? Don't lock the door!"

"OK Dad, but Mr. Bert told me to always lock the door when I am home alone."

"Well, he's not your dad, is he? You listen to me, girl! I need a drink of water."

With that he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He took a drink and forthwith vomited on the kitchen floor and table. He looked at me and simply said, "I'm going to bed." And he did. As he walked through the door to his room I left the anger of dad and the stench of returned beer and walked out into the winter night.

My anger and sadness were both a comfort against the cold. And then I saw it. I looked up and there were more stars than I ever remember seeing. The sky was simply white with them. Could there be anything more beautiful? It was such a contrast to what I had felt in the house. My feet made their way to the Larges and I knocked on the door. Mr. Bert opened it and one look told him everything.

"My dear Louisa. Come in here. It's cold out there."

The sad memory did not overwhelm as I lay with my Martin holding me. The part that stood out was the starry starry night. And on this night that Milky Way, though hidden by clouds, had bathed us in incomparable love and beauty. I felt like Maria as she sang, "I must have done something good." And with a heart full of gratitude I drifted into a very peaceful and deep sleep. As I drifted off I heard the chimes of the beautifully restored Seth Thomas clock as it announced the New Year. A very broken clock, cast aside, had been brought back to its original beauty. And a broken child, loved by many and not the least of which were these three loves already asleep, restored to a state she never could have dreamed.

I was in a deep sleep and heard the voice of my daughter. "Mum, _Mum,_ did you and Dad sleep on the couch all night?"

Groggily I opened my eyes as she repeated her words. "Mum, did you and Dad sleep here all night?"

Suddenly, realizing our state, I was instantly awake and in a panic. I tried to hide it as I said, "Good morning Joanie. Sleep well? Yes, I guess we fell asleep, just like you and James did. Say, would you be a sweetheart and go make a pot of tea?"

"Sure Mummy. Shall I wake James?"

I was trying to clear the room so Martin and I could escape to the bedroom. "_No!_" I tried to mask my feelings. "No. Let him sleep and go make tea. I'll join you in a few minutes."

"Righto Mummy." And with that Joan went to the kitchen.

I couldn't believe it. Martin was still asleep. I had to awaken him without waking James up. I jostled him and whispered, "Martin! _MARTIN_!"

"Wha...? What Louisa. Oh good morning."

"Shush Martin. We are in a pickle. Wrap in this cover and get to our bedroom stat!"

I hoped the medical comment would get him moving. Suddenly he realized the situation and did as I said. I was pleading in my heart, "Don't wake up James. _Don't!_"

Martin had escaped and I jumped up and grabbed my dressing gown.

We took a quick shower and joined the children in the kitchen. James had arisen and was sitting at the table having some toast with Joan. She poured tea for all and we sat around the table just enjoying each other and the first day of the new year. After getting beyond our surprise wake-up I realized the day had dawned clear and beautiful.

The storm had passed during the night and we were looking out on a blue sky and peaceful sea.

We certainly have known storms in our lives, before we met and in the ensuing years of our life together. Thankfully we have learned how to get through the storms and to appreciate a morning like this that also was a parable of the life of our good family. Weathering storms may strengthen us in life, but appreciating the calmness of a cloudless sky and a low blue sea was also nice. Really nice. It was Joan who interrupted my thoughts again.

"Mum, wasn't it funny. We all slept in the living room all night?"

"Yes, Joanie. Funny. _Quite funny_."


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN**

We had spent the night before my surgery at the County Arms. It was becoming our home away from home. I had to be at hospital quite early. If it were not for the fact that Martin's colleague was doing my surgery I would probably be at St. Michaels Hospital in Hale, where most breast surgery is performed in Cornwall. The Royal Cornwall Hospitals NHS Trust had agreed that Mr. Mason could do his surgery work at the hospital in Truro.

I had not had time to dwell on my medical issues as there had been much to do getting things lined up for me to be away from the school for an extended time. When alone however my mind did find itself going there. The "What if's" raised their ugly head now and then but I managed to hold them at bay. My two men were hiding their feelings very well. I have learned to read my husband like a book. This is weighing on him. With James I simply have an adolescent who is becoming more proficient at withdrawing and not talking much. At his worst he can be quite sulky. I have no idea what he is thinking about my illness, but I am guessing that he is repressing his feelings as usual.

I am so thankful for my daughter. She is still very child-like in her approach to all of this, but at least she wants to talk about it. She asks questions and I try to help her see how I am dealing with everything. It is hardest when she wants to talk about death and that she does not want to lose me. I told her that I am confident that because this has been detected early that she would have a mother for a long time. I promised her that some day I would take her to Paris. Just the two of us. She has wanted me to tuck her into bed every night. Sometimes I lie down beside her until she is asleep, or until Martin comes in and awakens me for us to retire to our own room.

I had to be at hospital by seven o'clock. Ruth and Natalie and the children were to come a bit later. We had gone through all of the pre-coached preliminaries and I was lying on a trolley in a small room with an IV in my arm. Within the hour I would be in surgery and when I awoke my breasts would be gone. I knew my breasts had never defined who I was, but I still wondered what my emotional response to all of this would be. Full knowledge and full acceptance are very different things. Martin had not been very open about his feelings on this in the days leading up to this day. I do not know what prompted it but finally before we went to sleep last night he told me, "You are beautiful. Your breasts are beautiful. When they are no longer there you will still be my beautiful Louisa. Remember a breast is not worth very much. Your life is worth everything." I had teared up and he held me very close, gently caressing my head, until I fell asleep.

As much as you want to go through things together as a couple there are times when you each must travel a road alone. As Martin squeezed my hand and released it I knew the truth of this as they took me to theatre. I did not like this feeling and was glad I would soon be asleep. I said a prayer that I would awaken and see my family.

Ruth and the children had returned from getting something to eat and we were simply waiting while Louisa was in surgery. It was to be a long wait as the surgery would likely take three to four hours. Presently we were all quiet. Joan was seated with Natalie's arm around her. Ruth and James and I were simply lost in thought.

People have described me as being impersonal, brusque, unfeeling and rude. Years ago Louisa had called me rude, but thankfully she added well-meaning. I feel sure that people thought that "ice water in his veins" was a phrase created to define me. It is true I had built impregnable walls around myself to be protected by the hurt hurled my way since I was a child. No one realized what it was like living inside those walls. I really did feel every cruel word and thoughtless gesture. Louisa is the only one who realizes this, the only one I have ever let inside my walls. I do try to be somewhat available emotionally to James and Joan, but it is difficult.

At the moment I was in sheer agony inside my fortress. I had assisted in enough mastectomies to know exactly what was happening to Louisa. I was visualizing every cut and it was like a cutting of my heart. She was anesthetized, but I was not. I finally had to get up and walk for a bit. I excused myself and wandered through the halls ending up at the main reception area of the hospital. Almost all the chairs were filled so I decided to wander outside a bit. As I was exiting, my eye caught Roger Fenn seated near the entrance.

"Roger, what are you doing here? Is your family alright?"

"Yes, we're fine Martin. I knew Louisa was having surgery today and felt the need to be here."

"Roger, how in the world did you know Louisa was having surgery? We have attempted to keep it to ourselves."

"Oh Martin, how long have you lived in Portwenn? There are no secrets. Once it slipped to one person about our beloved Louisa, it was all over the village. So tell me, how is she? Where are you headed?"

"She has been in surgery over two hours so I decided to walk a bit. You can join me if you would like."

We walked around the hospital grounds without speaking. Finally Roger said, "Martin, how can you stand this? I don't know what I would do if anything happened to Maureen."

I realized that Roger was one person who had seen through a crack in my wall. He was the only one I had told of my blood issues early on. I told him, "Roger, it is bloody awful. _Damn bloody awful! _ I wish it were me on that table!"

Let me say, it was good of you to come today. I do thank you."

Adding to the chill of the day a light rain was beginning to fall so we directed our steps back inside. I invited Roger to return to the surgery waiting area with me.

"No, Roger, I insist. You must sit with us. It will be as if I have returned with another member of the family. It means a great deal that you have come today."

It must have been about an hour later when my colleague William Mason entered to tell us that the surgery was completed. It had taken all of four hours.

Mr. Mason addressed all of us. "I want to inform you that all went very well and there were no problems. Martin, we did remove the sentinel lymph nodes and we should have a pathology report on them within a week. I am cautiously optimistic that the cancer was only in the affected breast, but we will have to confirm that. Mrs. Ellingham should be in recovery for some two hours. You will be informed when she has been situated in her room. She will be a bit groggy and very sensitive to touch, but I know she will want to see you. Do you have any questions?"

Of course the questions we wanted to ask Mr. Mason could not be answered by anyone at this point. After he left, Natalie suggested we get something to eat while Louisa was in recovery. I couldn't stand the thought of canteen food so suggested we eat at Mullions, a restaurant in hospital. It was adequate and we would not have to leave. I have eaten at Mullions and always hoped that their sanitation practices were optimum. One can never be certain, even in a hospital. I recall seeing loose breads in a basket and unwrapped tea bags in a bowl. They might as well have a sign saying, "Have some germs. Not responsible if you get sick."

I began to be aware of voices and being moved around. "Mrs. Ellingham, can you hear me? Mrs. Ellilngham?" Well, I could hear her but I couldn't find words to say. And my throat was sore from the intubation tube having just been removed. I groaned and tried to open my eyes. Everything was fuzzy. As I focused, finally I could see people working around me. All of a sudden, without warning I vomited all over my bed clothes and beyond. I hadn't eaten but something came up and it was a mess. I wish that had not happened because the cleaning up and changing of my gown and the bed clothes was horribly painful. The nurse had the idea that this would be a good time for me to walk just a little. I asked for some pain medicine and she said, "Let's just get this gown changed and walk you around the bed first."

I was finally settled with enough meds to deal with the pain for the most part. There was no more vomiting and in fact I drifted in and out of sleep. I have no idea how long I was on that trolley but I felt them moving me and entering a room where four attendants lifted me onto a hospital bed.

At some point I felt a kiss on my forehead and heard Martin's voice. "Louisa, I'm here now. How do you feel?"

"I'm sleepy, but I think I'm okay. I'm just glad it is over. I want to see James and Joan."

Martin thought it best that they come in one at a time. James came to me and leaned over, his father cautioning him not to touch me. He leaned in close and said with difficulty, "Mum, I'm sorry. Will you be okay?"

He had no idea how much it meant for me to know inside this adolescent was still my sweet James. "Yes, James. I will be okay. I love you, and will feel more like talking when you come tomorrow. Please take care of your sister."

"I will Mum. I promise."

I really do not know why I said that because James has always been very protective of his sister and they are closer than most siblings, even though there are five years between them. I squeezed his hand and told him, "Love you Son."

"Love you too Mum. See you tomorrow."

Poor Joan was quite frightened to see all the lines and tubes sticking in and coming from my body. Then too I looked, I am sure, just a tad on the frail side having just undergone four hours of surgery. I had to reassure her.

"Joan, don't worry. They are putting stuff into me that I need and draining stuff out of me that I don't need. All is fine. I told you I would be okay and I am. Just a bit tired. I'll be better tomorrow and can talk more then"

Joan wasn't convinced. "Are you sure? Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Joanie. Mr. Mason said everything went well. Be a love for Aunt Ruth and Natalie and I'll see you in the morning."

Martin was going to be very protective of me and suggested the others wait until tomorrow to visit me. He stood in the hall with them and I could overhear their conversation. It sounded like they would spend another night in the hotel. He sent them on their way and I heard him say, "Ruth, why don't you exit through A and E as the car is near that entrance." One can never predict the consequences of off-hand suggestions.

Martin came back in and hopefully I could sleep a bit before they returned to check on me. He sat in the chair which could be made into a bed - well sort of a bed. It seemed only a few minutes when Martin's mobile rang.

"Yes, Ellingham here...What's wrong?...Who did you say?...Alright, I will be right down. Ask Natalie to come here."

"Martin! What has happened?"

"It seems Joan is quite upset. I will go and see to her and Natalie will be with you until I return."

With that comment he hurriedly left the room leaving me with troubling thoughts.

Martin had left it to me and Natalie to deal with the rest of the day and the evening. I suppose we could have driven to Portwenn, but Martin did not want us to, given the fact that the roads were wet and we would be returning the next day. As he suggested, we were leaving hospital by way of A and E. We were moving toward the exit when we had to quickly step aside. We had heard an ambulance arrive and they were quickly moving a gurney with a young girl on it down the corridor. Her face was covered in blood. Without a word Joan began screaming.

"Meg! Meg! What happened?"

She pursued the gurney and had to be restrained. Natalie and I ran to her and she was simply out of control. It was Natalie who held her finally and said, "Joan, you know that girl, right?

She responded through her sobs, "Yes, she's my best friend, Meg."


	38. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

Natalie left quickly to be with Louisa while Ruth tried to console Joan who was very distraught and crying. Ruth could not calm her at all.

**CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT**

In a matter of minutes I was in the A and E and found Ruth and Joan. I quickly ushered them into a small room and addressed my daughter. "Joan, what has happened? Why are you upset?"

"Daddy, Daddy, they just brought Meg in hospital. Her eyes were closed and there was blood all over her face. Please help her. _ You have to go help her!"_

"Joan I can't help her if you do not calm down and explain more to me. Is this your friend Meg from Portwenn, the Ferguson's daughter?"

Martin wiped her face with his handkerchief and between diminishing sobs Joan said, "Yes Dad, my friend Meg. Her uncle has the stables in Bodmin. That's where we go to help the handicapped kids. Won't you please see if you can help her? I am so afraid. I hope she's not _dead_. She looked awful Daddy."

"We need to go to the A and E waiting area. They may need this room. You both need to wait there and I will see what I can find out. And Joan, you need to know something. I will not jeopardize a patient's treatment simply to find out what is wrong. It may be awhile before we know anything."

As we walked into the hallway we met the Ferguson's, Arthur and Tamara. They recognized me and anxiously addressed me. "Doc we didn't know we'd find you here. Our daughter fell while riding and hit her head on a large stone. Do you know where she is?"

"No, I only just found out about this. She is in good hands and we can attempt to find out how things are going. Why don't you let the people at the desk know you're here so they can notify the caregivers."

"Yes, we'll do that. Oh, hello Joan...and Ruth. You are here also. Are you here to visit someone?"

I wanted to say "Mind your own business," but instead interrupted with, "My wife underwent a procedure this morning. Let's go to the reception area and we will attempt to find out about Meg."

Joan's friend's injuries were not life-threatening. She had a severe concussion due to the fall and a cracked helmet had caused a laceration to her forehead, which required stitches. Thankfully she was wearing a helmet or this story could have had a tragic ending. They would observe her overnight and she would likely return home tomorrow. The Fergusons had gone to be with their daughter. I took my leave of Ruth and Joan so I could return to be with Louisa. I hoped Joan was settled now.

"Joan, you understand that Meg is going to be okay. Her injuries are not serious. The helmet she was wearing likely saved her life. I believe they will keep her in hospital overnight and allow her to go home tomorrow. It may be you can visit her in the morning."

I turned to Ruth. "Thank you for your help, Aunt Ruth. I will bid you goodnight. I hope we can all have a peaceful night now. We'll see you after breakfast. By the way, where is James?"

"His mobile rang and he went off somewhere. Don't worry about him Martin. We'll sort this out and await Natalie. I hope you and Louisa can get some rest."

James's mobile rang and seeing who was calling made his way to a short hallway away from the noise of the A and E.

"Emily?"

"James, is that you? I was trying to call my Mom but I can't reach her."

"Your mom is upstairs with Mum. We're about to go to the hotel. It's pretty late there isn't it?"

"It is late but Dad and I wanted to know how your Mom is doing after her surgery. I know he will want to talk with Mom but I wanted to hear her voice so I dialed first. Tell me, how is your mother doing?"

After the Jacobs had visited us one summer, Emily and I began talking online and on the phone. Lately it had been almost every week after we found out Mum had cancer. Joan kept saying, "I know you fancy her James." And I kept saying she was a just a good friend and we liked to talk. Joan kept pointing out there were lots of girls in the Wadebridge School. Why didn't I talk to them? None of my mates at school knew about Mum. I had only told my friend Arthur and had sworn him to secrecy. Maybe it was easier to talk with someone at a distance. Emily always seemed to understand what I was saying. Okay, maybe I did fancy her a bit. Truth is, I told her I hoped she could come for a visit in the summer.

"She was in surgery almost four hours. I only got to see her for a minute. She looked really tired and didn't say much. Said we could visit more in the morning. The doctor said the operation went fine. But, I don't know Emily. I am still afraid, really afraid. I told Mum I was sorry."

"Why James, why are you sorry?"

"I know this is crazy, but I almost cried. I had to stop and just say I was sorry. I am sorry she is sick. I am sorry to for all the times lately when I have been a real arse and argued with her over little things that don't matter. She is a really good mother, Emily, and I am afraid."

"Who have you told you are afraid?"

"No one really. Well, I have told you, haven't I?"

"Why did you tell me?"

"Because you're _different_."

"I'm glad I'm different, James. _ I really am._ And I'm glad you told me, but why haven't you told your dad?"

"Dad and I don't talk much. He really doesn't talk and it seems like he has really clammed up since Mum has been sick. He looks worried."

"James, I think you need to tell Joan. She has to be scared too. You can help each other if you will tell her."

"How will that help her?"

"It will just help her to know someone else feels like she does. Just do it James. I promise it will make her feel better."

Suddenly I heard my name being called. I looked and it was Aunt Ruth. "Emily, I have to go. They're calling me. I'll call you tomorrow in the afternoon. Oh, and call your Mum in thirty minutes. We'll be at the hotel by then. Bye."

"Good James. Will do. Remember what I told you. Bye."

I returned to Louisa's room and sent Natalie to join the others. "Thank you Natalie. I think you'll find things calmer downstairs. I hope you don't mind our shuffling you off."

"No, of course not, Martin. I love your kids and Ruth and I will visit a bit, or perhaps not. I think we are all quite tired. Louisa, I do hope you rest, Love. We'll have time to visit when you're back home. Sleep well. See you in the morning. And goodnight to you too Martin. Get some rest yourself. You have been through the emotional wringer."

"Thank you Natalie. Good night."

With Natalie's exit Louisa and I hardly had time to acknowledge each other before attendants were present doing vitals and checking her again. I feared this portended what would follow all night. Finally we were alone and I sat by her holding her hand. She drifted into sleep and awakened now and then briefly. She would see

me, smile and drift back to sleep. I really wanted to sit here all night, but I decided I could not be of any use tomorrow if I did not sleep. I prepared the chair-bed and once Louisa was sleeping soundly, I think it must have been around ten, I attempted to sleep a bit.

The amazing thing about the human body is that when wounded in any way, it begins the healing process immediately. My Louisa was healing and would be well again. I have had many disappointments in my life but tonight I felt a certain peace. I must have been tired as I did not awaken until nurses arrived at four to check on their patient.


	39. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER THIRTY NINE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER THIRTY NINE**

We received the good news that Louisa's lymphatic system had not been compromised. The cancer was apparently contained in the affected breast. Due to the nature of the tumor it was determined that eight chemotherapy treatments would be advisable. It was now a month past surgery and Louisa was doing very well. She had experienced discomfort, but not severe pain.

Our children had risen to the occasion. The house was actually neater than usual, which we may owe in part to the fact that Louisa was not scattering things hither and thither. James and Joan insisted on taking their turn in the kitchen, both cooking and cleaning. When we had told them we would get through this together, they had taken it to heart.

Louisa was feeling well enough to get to get away for an evening with her friends. They had invited her to Millie Evans's house to play some inane game, Bunko I think they called it. Since Louisa was eating supper with the ladies, Joan said she would cook our supper. She surprised us with her version of toad in the hole. Gratefully she did not make the fat-ladened sausage variety. She had cut heart shapes in the toasted bread with egg in the center covered with cheese. After devouring two, James said,

"Muffin, this is good. I could eat more."

"Yes, Joan, thank you for this. We seem to have developed a house full of cooks. If you will excuse me, I think I will go to my study now."

"No Dad. You can't go yet. We have some afters and I will make you some espresso."

With that, James helped Joan and brought slices of yarg and apples. She and James had tea and I enjoyed the coffee. Usually the children quickly cleared the table and left Louisa and me to ourselves. It made perfect sense to me to go ahead and assist with clean-up and go to my office. Obviously I was mistaken on this night. This time it was James who stopped me.

"Dad, Joan and I need to talk with you. We have some questions to ask about Mum."

I had not shared my thoughts about Louisa's cancer with anyone and I wasn't sure I liked the direction this conversation was headed. I know early on I had told Louisa that the children would be on this journey too, but it had been difficult to discuss so I'd taken the line of least resistance and not talked about it. But there was no choice now. I had to hear my children out. "Alright, what do you want to ask me?"

"The thing is Dad," James continued, "You have not told us very much. We don't know what is going on. If they got all the cancer out, why does Mum have to have the chemotherapy? If there's no cancer, isn't she cured?"

"First, James and Joan, we are very fortunate that cancer wasn't detected in the lymph nodes. If that were the case the cancer could be traveling to other parts of her body and it would require more intense treatment. It's possible that there remain some cancer cells that we cannot detect. The eight chemotherapy treatments will hopefully destroy these if they're present."

I felt I had to be honest with the children. "What you need to know is that we don't speak of cancer being cured. We say there is no evidence of the disease. The longer a person lives with no evidence of Cancer, the better the chance that they will live a long life. After the surgery, there's no evidence of cancer in your mother. This adjuvant therapy will be done to prevent it coming back."

Then James spoke of things I did not want to discuss. I had feared this.

"Dad, I am worried. I have been afraid Mum might not be okay. Don't you worry that she might not be okay?"

Of course I worried. It began the night Louisa found the abnormality in her breast. It has been like a parasite eating away at me. Even though the prognosis looks good I am still troubled. I did not want to answer James so I simply kept my head bowed and remained silent. I feared what might come out of my mouth if I opened it.

Suddenly Joan arose and came over to me putting her arms around my neck. She held me tightly and said, "Daddy, I love you. Don't be afraid. I can tell from your eyes that you're worried. I pray every day that Mummy will be okay. I think she will be Daddy. She will not have any more cancer."

With that she sat in my lap and embraced me even more, beginning to cry into my chest. I put my arms around her and we sat like that for a good while. It was James who broke the silence.

"Dad, tell us about the chemotherapy. Will it make Mum sick? What's going to happen?"

"Next week we will go to the hospital and they will put a catheter port in her chest. That will prevent having to find a vein every time she has therapy. After that we will go to Truro every three weeks until she has had eight treatments. Each time they will make sure she is well and then administer the drugs. It can take several hours. And yes, your Mum will likely have nausea for some days. She will definitely tire easily."

Then Joan asked, "Daddy, will Mummy's hair fall out? My friend Jean said that her Mum lost all her hair."

"I have spoken with the oncologist and I believe they will be using the drug adriamycin along with some others and yes it will cause Mum to lose her hair."

"But Daddy, that's terrible. One time you said Mum had the most beautiful hair in the world."

"Joan, with or without hair, your mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. We will have to be helpful and make sure she knows that. The important thing for you both to remember is that by going through this difficult treatment she can live without cancer."

We finally ended up in the living room. The children would usually turn on the telly, but not tonight. My usual response to the intense conversation we had at table would be flight. Even opening the BMJ would be a relief. I cannot explain it but I just could not do that. For some time we sat in silence. It was as if Louisa had gone far away and we would not be okay until she returned home. We were complete with four, but one was missing. Never mind that she was simply enjoying an evening with friends. In our minds she was lost on the moor and we wanted her safely here with the doors closed and locked. We wanted our Louisa home and we wanted cancer locked out of this home.

Silence is a vacuum that must be filled so James finally asked me, "Dad, why can't they find a cure for cancer?"

"James, the quick and incomplete answer is that cancer is not just one disease. It is hundreds of diseases; thousands if you consider all of the manifestations in each person due to genetics and other factors. It is not as simple as eradicating a disease like smallpox or completing a project like traveling to the moon. But the good news is that some cancers respond well to treatment. And the type of cancer your mother has is one of those.

I know you - well, we - are worried, but I can tell you that the prospects of her living a long cancer-free life are excellent. Is that more than you wanted to know?"

"No Dad. It's not. I have been doing some reading, but I wanted to hear it from you. It's almost ten. Wonder when Mum will get home."

It was almost as if James's comment had triggered the sound of a car in the drive. We heard the front door open and Louisa walked in to find us all waiting as we had waited in hospital for the surgeon's report. After our intense conversation, it was a relief to have her home. Now all was well.

"My goodness People, what are you all doing in here?"

Joan was quick to reply, "We are waiting for you Mummy. We wanted to see you home. Did you have a good time?"

"Oh, yes. It was really fun to be with the girls, but I must say I am quite knackered."

With that Louisa sat down next to Joan and Joan cuddled up to her Mum. Louisa let her head rest on the back of the sofa.

James asked her, "Well Mum, how much cash did you win?"

"Oh, it's just for fun. I did have the lowest score which made me one of the winners for the night. I won a prize. Look, salt and pepper shakers in the form of dice."

This prompted my reply, "Just what we need, another dispenser of hypertension and fluid retention."

Louisa's response was a wonderful laugh. "My impossible husband. I missed you all tonight. Glad I'm home."

"Not as glad as we are Mum," James said, "not as glad as we are."

With that Louisa held Joan a bit tighter and closing her eyes, relaxed.

**I am grateful to Snowsie2011 who through her review inspired this chapter.**


	40. Chapter 40

**CHAPTER FORTY REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FORTY**

It was the second week in December and Louisa was scheduled to have her first chemotherapy treatment at the Sunrise Center of the Royal Cornwall in Truro.

Although due to teachers' meetings both children were out of school for this Thursday, we decided it best that they stay home. We left the house after breakfast planning to return late afternoon, well after dark given the short days of December.

"Okay Joan, we have a lot to do. While Dad was at the market yesterday I placed all the Christmas decorations together. I'll bring them in and we'll get started. Let's get the candles in the windows first. Maybe Uncle Al will have the tree here by then."

We had big plans. When Mom and Dad returned we wanted to have the house completely decorated for Christmas. We knew this would be a hard day for Mum and we wanted her to feel good when she came home. Dad never did get as excited about Christmas and all of its trappings as the rest of us, but he went along. Secretly I think seeing our enjoyment gave him pleasure. What he lacked in enthusiasm Mum made up for it. She was always over the top when it came to Christmas.

We wanted a perfect tree but when we realized how much tree farms charged for Christmas trees, even with our combined funds, purchasing one would be impossible. Uncle Al had said he would find us a tree at Havenhurst and bring it to us. He knew we wanted it to be special for Mum. About ten o'clock we heard his truck. Then the front door opened and we heard voices.

"James. Joanie. It's us. We brought your Christmas tree. Where are you?"

Turns out that Uncle Al was accompanied by an excited crew. Thomas and Eva came with him. In a short time he had helped us erect the tree by the large window in the front of the living room. We wanted Mum to see it when they drove up later.

"Okay kids, it looks pretty good for a pine from here. It don't quite look like a Christmas tree, but it will look good when you get the lights and bobbles on it."

It was Eva who said, "Daddy, let us stay and help decorate. Please, let us."

"Well, okay, I'll be in the village for an hour and then pick you up to go home. Oh, I almost forgot, Morwenner sent a chicken pie for your supper tonight. Let me get it and I'll be off."

So, it looked like we had some helpers. Actually after Joan and I got the lights in place it was good to have some help. The children became more excited and wanted to do more, so they cut out snowflakes and hung them in windows. I pulled out Mum's collection of figures of Father Christmas and they had fun placing them all around. My favorite has always been the Scottish nutcracker Santa with the bagpipes. It was Joan who decided we should put our lighted star outside. "James, it will be so cool. Mum and Dad will see it coming up the road."

When Uncle Al returned we asked him to help us hang the star on the peak of the house. We had forgotten that we would need a really long electric cord, but he had one in his truck and let us use it. By the time he and the kids left, things looked really good and we turned on the tree lights and the star outside even though it was still daylight.

"Okay James, there is just one more thing we have to do."

"Joan, I'm not sure."

"No we have to do it. Remember when that coach in Delabole got cancer. All his team cut their hair to let them know they cared. You don't have to, but I am going to do it. Mum is going to lose her beautiful hair and I want to do this for her."

We went out to the garden so we did not get loose hair all over the house. I cut Joan's hair and she cut mine. When we finished with the scissors we looked at each other and really laughed.

"James, you look so funny. But this isn't good. How are we going to get the rest of it off?"

"Well, we could use Dad's shaver, but if we mess it up, he'll kill us."

We should have used the shaver outside too because when when we finished the bathroom had little hairs scattered everywhere and it took us forever to clean Dad's shaver, and another forever to clean up all the hair.

"Now James, get the Father Christmas hats."

It was half five when we heard the car pull into the drive. The casserole was in the cooker and we had all the Christmas lights on. The Father Christmas hats were well pulled down on our heads. Mum and Dad entered the living room and we were sitting on the sofa trying to look normal. It was Mum who, with a smile and wide eyes, spoke.

"Oh, Joanie and James, it all looks so wonderful. We saw the star from the bottom of the hill and then the lighted tree in the window. This is so welcoming. Thank you. Isn't it wonderful Martin?"

"Yes. Looks as if the Christmas elves have landed in full force. It does look good, but it is a good while until Christmas. Where did you get the tree?"

James said, "Uncle Al brought it from the farm and Thomas and Eva helped us decorate it. He helped me put the star outside. Oh, and Aunt Morwenna sent some supper. It's in the cooker. Joanie, maybe you had better check on it."

Joan went toward the kitchen giving Mum and Dad a kiss as she passed. As she opened the door the smell of the chicken pie came into the living room. All of a sudden Mum ran from the room to the loo, and we could hear her being sick.

"Dad, what is wrong? Why is Mum sick?"

"It is the effect of the treatment she had today. The nausea may last for a day or two. I am afraid your mum won't be able to appreciate Morwenna's kindness tonight. Close the kitchen door."

Dad went to see about Mum and they returned shortly. She was quite pale and sat down. James and I sat on either side of her and she placed her arms around us. "I'm sorry kids. I started feeling this at the hospital and the smell of the food got the best of me. I think I'm alright now. Thank you for your sweet surprise. The house looks wonderful."

Dad went back and returned with a cool cloth. "Here Louisa, this will help you. Wipe your face and place it on your neck." As she withdrew her hand from around James her watch band caught some threads on the Father Christmas hat and it instantly fell from his head. Mum took the cloth from dad and saw the look on his face. At the same moment she saw James's head out of the corner of her eye. She looked at him straight on and let out a scream.

"James, _What happened? What have you done?"_

The penny obviously dropped for Dad and he reached out and removed the hat from my head, which brought forth and even louder scream from Mum. _"Joan, oh Joanie, your beautiful hair." _ With that there was no stopping the tears. She put her face in her hands and started bawling. I put my arms around her and tried to console, but with little result I am afraid.

When things settled a bit Dad became quite firm, almost angry. "James, you are old enough to know this would not be good. How could you cause your sister to do this?"

"Daddy, it was not James. It was my idea. If all those blokes in Delabole could do it for their coach we can do it for our Mum. You said we would go through this together. That's what we want to do."

"It's not exactly what I had in mind." Dad kept on with James. "But James, you are older. You could have discouraged your sister from doing this."

"Yes, Dad, I could, but finally I agreed with her. If Mum has to lose her hair, then we are going to do it too."

It was Mum who intervened. "Children, I'm sorry I carried on so. It was just such a shock. It still is, really. I know you have good hearts. I'm the luckiest mother on earth." She wrapped her arms around us tightly and began to cry again.

We sat like that for a long time and hadn't even realized that Dad was not there. Eventually he returned with a tray with a pot of tea and a rack of toast.

"It has been a long day. Perhaps we should have the casserole tomorrow. I'll add to your mother's words. Thank you for all you did today. I must say getting used to the bald heads around here is going to take some time. Didn't you think about going to school like this? The kids are going to laugh at you."

And then James turned to Dad and said, "Right. Maybe so Dad, but you know if they do laugh, they'll be laughing at love. That won't bother us, will it Joanie?"

"Nope, James, _that won't bother us at all."_


	41. Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY ONE REMEMBRANCE

The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.

Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.

I must tell you that the first part of this chapter will make sense only if you have read or remember the end of Chapter Forty.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

All of sudden I began to laugh, really laugh.

James asked, "Mum, what is so funny?"

"Oh I just had a really funny thought. For once Martin, you will have the longest hair in the family."

No doubt about it, I had married a curmudgeon. I accept that. Entered into it with my eyes wide open. Many folks could never understand the attraction. Why had I done it? And even now at times Martin gave them no reason to think differently. He could still be brusque and short, especially with time wasters and whingers. There was one significant change. After James was born he became more patient with worried parents. He could even be withdrawn sometimes and a bit gruff with us, especially when tired or worried. But I know above all I am a cherished woman. Martin loves me and takes care of me. We have learned the silent language of couples. I can give him a certain look and his look back says, "I don't understand, but my lips are sealed." That's why when I made the comment about his hair I saw a faint smile cross his face and the spell was broken. His response was,

"I suppose you all think I should shave my head."

"NO Dad," James exclaimed. You can well be a shock to your patients as it is. Oh wait, that didn't come out well. I mean..."

"No need to explain Son. I have no intention of having shorter hair than this. How are you feeling now, Louisa?"

"A bit better. I just want to go to bed. You have surgery tomorrow, Martin. Good night children. You make your mother very proud and happy."

"Thanks Mum, g'night"

"Good night Mum. Love you."

0

It was mid-January and I had received my second treatment. This was a miserable winter and my feelings matched the weather. I was tired most of the time and when they said I would lose my hair, I had no idea it would mean _all_ my hair. Joan and I had shopped for and found some lovely scarves and knitted beanies in Truro. At least they covered my dome. Thankfully the nausea lasted on a few days and the meds they gave me for it helped. My sweet family was really taking care of me. In fact I had to work hard not to fuss at their fussing over me so much.

This was a particularly blustery day with the rain hitting the windows like pellets. I hated that Martin had to drive up on the moor, and the children were not home from school yet. I heard a phone ring in the other room. What was that? My phone was next to me. I checked and realized Martin had left his mobile. I scrolled and saw that our friend Luk* had tried to call. I quickly redialed him.

"Luk, hi, it's Louisa. Martin forgot his phone and he is out in this bloody weather. Not good. How are you?"

"Fine, Louisa. Just checking up on things there and thought I would call Martin. Can't say the weather's any better here. Lot's of snow. We've not been out all day."

"Muddling through here Luk," I sighed. The kids aren't home from school yet and I am just lying here like a bag of potatoes. I can't go to the school since I am susceptible to infections. I'm so ready to be over this and still have four months to go. Not fun. Not fun at all. Sorry Luk. I shouldn't be complaining. My reports are good and the future looks positive. I can't tell you how much it meant to have Natalie here. She helped me but more than that she was so good for Martin and the children. Before the good reports I know we all were thinking the worst. Natalie helped us get through that difficult time."

There was a bit of silence and I said, "Luk, are you there?"

"Yes, yes, Louisa I'm still here. Just thinking. St. Benedict said, 'We should keep death daily before our eyes.' I don't want to sound morbid, but you have received a blessing, you know."

"Luk, what are you going on about?"

"Louisa, tell me if you see life differently now than before your diagnosis."

"Well of course. I look at Martin and James and Joan and want to spend every moment with them I can, and hate it when we are apart. It is so easy to take it all for granted. I don't ever want to do that again."

"There you are. Score one for St. Benedict. Tell me how it goes with Martin."

"He seems to be holding his feelings inside. These days he has been a man of even fewer words. But I know him, Luk and I can tell you he has been afraid and worried. The man treats me like a china doll."

"Louisa, I hope you let him take care of you. If he can't speak, he can do. Don't complain about your family's attention. It's their way of showing their love and concern. They would have donned armour and stormed a castle to destroy your cancer. If they can't do that, let them make your toast. Of course Martin has feared losing you but do you know what else worries him? Do you?"

"What? What did he tell you?"

"I had to drag it out of him and I hope I am not speaking out of turn. Louisa, he is afraid you won't believe him when he tells you how beautiful your are."

"My cheeks were wet and it was Luk wondering if I was still on the line. Finally I said, "Thank you for _that_ Luk. I don't think I am able to talk more now. Tell Natalie I will call her" my voice was cracking, "later in the week."

It was not a conscious decision that motivated what happened next. Cognition had nothing to do with it. Something inside moved me to arise and to go upstairs to our ensuite. I shed the joggers that I was wearing and let them drop to the floor, hopefully accompanied by the heaviness I had been feeling. I turned on the shower and adjusted it to a fine light spray. I kept it quite tepid because the incisions on my chest were still very tender and sensitive. I stepped into the warm cascade and let it wash over me for the longest time. I shampooed my head as if it were covered in hair. As I rinsed I allowed the suds to wash over me, taking with it, I hoped, every "_Why me_?" I had uttered. I wanted to shed the self-pity I had felt; the dark weather-matching weariness down the drain. If I were up too long I could not complete what I had now conceived as I bathed. There would be a thank you for my family when they got home.

Stepping out of the shower I gently toweled off and I stopped. I turned and looked in the full length mirror. From head to toe there was no hair. I defined baldness, right to my eye brows and eye lashes being gone. Where my breasts used to be were two lateral incisions surrounded by pink healing flesh, no longer angry and sore. What came to my mind was not that I was now disfigured or incomplete. No, what came to mind was something I tried to instill in all of the girls I had taught over the years. I had studied the fight for women's rights in the UK and in America. Nothing had touched me more than a speech by Sojourner Truth, once a slave. Her speech was "_Ain't I a Woman." Ain't **I** a woman?_ I am Louisa Roberta Glasson Ellingham. I am a woman. A _complete_ woman.

Going to my dressing table to get some knickers I started to grab the top ones and stopped. Going through them I pulled out and pulled on the peach lacey ones. Putting on some soft flannel pyjamas and my dressing gown I went downstairs and straight to the kitchen.

Going to the pantry I found the flour and ingredients for scones. Yes, gratefully there was a bag of currants. Just room in my hands for the tin of Yorkshire Red Tea.

Placing a bowl on the table I sifted the flour, sugar, salt and baking powder. I cut butter into small pieces and began to mix them into the flour with my hands. I lifted the mixture to my face and savoured the fragrance of it. Adding the milk and mixing it well I finally turned it onto my floured board. I began to knead gently just to combine everything well and form it. It was quite sensuous in my hands.

With the scones in the oven I turned to making a large pot of tea. I would use our largest pot and the tartan tea cosy my teachers had given me one Christmas. While it was brewing I placed on a tray; sugar, milk, some jam and finally the Devonshire Cream. Taking the scones from the oven I placed them in a cloth over a warm stone in the scone basket. They looked perfect with their egg-washed brown tops.

To be honest I was quite tired. I did manage to get everything arranged on a table in the living room in front of the fire. My family would arrive soon and find me on the sofa as if I had never left it, with Auntie Joan's woolen throw across my legs. I let Jack into the house and he immediately settled himself in front of the fireplace.

"And to whom do we need to give thanks for these scones?"

Martin asked this as he came down from changing after his afternoon ordeal. He had attended to an injured farmer in a very damp barn and he came in with wet clothes and muddy shoes. Coming in through the back door and using the back stairs he had not seen my thank offering. I did get up to meet him when I heard the door open.

I had given him a proper kiss and shooed him upstairs in only his pants and vest. I had laid out his pyjamas and dressing gown. He almost never left our bedroom in his pyjamas but surely he wouldn't redress himself. Thankfully he did veer from his protocol and came down looking much better than he had arrived.

It was Joan who answered his query. "Dad, Mum made the scones. They are so yummy. Let me pour your tea."

"But Louisa, you should not be in the kitchen working. We can handle the cooking until you are stronger."

"Martin, I am fine. I just wanted to do something to thank all of you for taking such good care of me."

With that Joan served Martin his tea and a plate with a scone and cream which of course prompted his usual response.

"Thank you Joan, but you should have left off the cream. You know I don't like to indulge in empty fat-ladened calories."

I couldn't resist a taunt. "Martin, what right have you to deprive a Devon farmer of his livelihood? Besides, you know you like it."

The wind had become even more fierce, but now it didn't matter. We were all home and safe. A new family, who were Indian, has moved to Portwenn and the wife makes and sells samosas from the house every afternoon. Martin had brought a box of vegetable samosas so no one had to cook supper. Joan made a second pot of tea and the kitchen was closed.

We were sitting quietly when James chimed in, "Thank you Mum. The scones were really good."

"That's sweet James, but I must tell you, you really have St. Benedict to thank for the scones."

"St. Bene...who?"

"James, Luk...you know, Mr. Jacobs, Emily's dad, called this afternoon. I talked to him a bit and he told me something about St. Benedict. He was a monk in the ancient Christian church. What Luk said helped me know how lucky I am to have a good family. And Martin, thank you for your concern, but I can tell you I feel much better now than when I was just lying on this couch earlier today."

With that I arose and gave hugs around. As I hugged and kissed Martin, I couldn't help but notice that there was no Devonshire Cream left on his plate.

*A reminder. Luk is an Episcopal priest.


	42. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER FORTY TWO REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FORTY TWO**

My eyes opened and even with the curtains closed I could tell the day was full of sunshine. It was nice to have a lie-in. Not that life had been particularly arduous

of late. It hadn't been. My return to Portwenn Primary after Easter was seamless because of the great work of my colleagues. Now we are winding down for the year and I think all will be grateful for a bit of a break. Having a cooperative and congenial team is so good. Martin keeps hinting at my retiring, but why would I do that when I enjoy my work?

It was nice that the family had slipped out quietly this morning and allowed me to stay in bed. Martin was taking Joan to Bodmin to work with her friend Meg and the special needs kids at the stables. James and Arthur had left early for a day hike along the cliffs. After opening the curtains I decided to crawl back under the covers awhile longer before going down to forage for a bit of breakfast.

I watched gulls coasting against a blue sky and suddenly a black bird lit on the window sill. I couldn't believe it. It was a chough and seeing one this close is rare. Perhaps I was looking at a relative of King Arthur as legend has it he did not die but turned into a chough.

Martin says he's a lucky man. If that's true I suppose he has received a pardon, since they say it is bad luck to harm a chough. Martin blew up a whole nest of them.

These days I am full of thankfulness. Our family has weathered the storm of my cancer. In June I had an ultrasound and the result of that was the good news that there is no evidence of cancer in my body. My family was such a rock through it all.

They really cared for me in every way. And to think I have the blessing of a much larger family: Al and Morwenna, Aunt Ruth, Roger and Maureen, Mandie and of course Natalie and Luk. I felt the love of this whole village.

My hair is a topic all its own. Oh my! My hair. It's a bit curly, but hopefully that will lessen as it gets longer. The eye brows and lashes are taking forever to come in. The color is the same but I am noticing a bit more grey; more than I thought was present before. Probably my imagination, as it was likely there all along. Growing only a little over a centimeter a month, I am going to have to be patient. Sweet Alice Miller, who has been doing my hair for as long as I can remember, is taking good care of me and I think I look quite stylish. Hats and scarves have been relegated to the back of the drawer. Funny how Martin likes to caress my head more with short hair. Well hey, no surprise there. I have always liked my fingers in Martin's short hair.

The chough took flight and I decided to wander downstairs as I was definitely fancying a cuppa. Switching on the light I set the water to boil and put some bread in the toaster. Actually being quite hungry I searched a bit in the fridge and found two kippers, purchased by James no doubt. He's really fond of them, much to his father's dismay. I would buy James some more but I really wanted those kippers. After heating them I put it all on a tray and carried it to the table. There in the middle was a vase with roses from the garden and, hmmm what's this, an envelope with my name on it in Martin's hand? Opening it I unfolded what was obviously a holiday travel itinerary. I know my mouth dropped open.

Of course nothing would be nicer than time away with my family, but _South Africa_. Not just South Africa but over two weeks in South Africa. This had James written all over it. He is the adventurer in our family. Not a week in Spain but almost three weeks in South Africa. And of course if James was the instigator, Martin was the one financing the adventure. How in the world had he convinced his father? This I had to hear.

I began to read through the travel plan. We would be in Johannesburg with a guide who would take us to areas tied to the struggles for freedom. It included The Apartheid Museum and traveling to Soweto. James is a great admirer of Nelson Mandela, so no surprise here. Then it seemed over a week would be spent at Marloth and Kruger parks, where we would have a house and a guide to take us into Kruger Park. I kept reading and there was more. We were to finish our trip in Margate at The Margate Sands Beach Resort. James had penned "Maybe whale and dolphin watching" in the margin. I caught my breath after reading through the described itinerary. It was simply amazing.

I would have been happy with something less elaborate but far be it from me to lick the jam off their toast. I know they want to do something special now that we have passed this awful time and I'm feeling quite well. I have most of my old spark and energy back. Lots of thank-yous for my sweet family when they return.

I did have that brief thought about Spain for a nice holiday. It would be much closer and a lot less costly. But I knew my husband and that would not even be up for discussion. Spain to him would always be the infamous _El Gran Resort Blanco_ in San Marcos. Now that was an experience we would not want to relive.* The other matter is that in South Africa we would not run into people we knew, and that would appeal to Martin most of all. He knows the Mylow's and my mother are in Spain and fate would be bound to bring us together, maybe all at the same time. He is glad for the children to travel to visit their Granny Eleanor, but he draws the line there.

My eyes fell on the picture on the cabinet of Mark and Julie's children Amelia and Raffy, both teens now. They had made a good life for themselves. I'll never forget being with Mark and Julie on that Spanish trip. Julie spoke more directly to Martin than I thought possible without him blowing up. _"If a cop and a crook can make it, then two intelligent people like you can make it."_ Martin does not express affection for me publically but Julie was so forceful that he professed love for me then and there. It was a night I'll never forget. Knowing Mark and Julie has taught me to always think the best of people. Being with children and their families through my years of teaching has only underscored that.

I heard the back door open and Martin and Joan appeared, anticipating my reaction to the surprise. It was Joan, bubbling with excitement, who burst out with, "Mummy, did you find the envelope?"

"Of course, Joanie. And Martin, thank you. What in the world possessed you to consider a trip to Africa? I mean it sounds absolutely wonderful but getting you on a plane in the past has been like pulling teeth. I remember once when you were a grouch and told me your holiday would be my going on holiday? It took a while for you to extract your foot from your mouth that time, didn't it? So Husband, how did this happen?"

Martin actually smiled and said, "Louisa, James is considering medicine but actually he might want to consider law. He could solicit a solicitor. It took a bit of doing but I did agree. We could be exposed to all manner of plagues and insects. I don't promise to fully enjoy the outing, but our family is going to South Africa. James has gone to great pains to plan it well."

"But Martin, aren't you afraid of running into relatives there?"

"That's rubbish. We have never had family anywhere in Africa. I may have had a distant cousin who was a diplomat in Nigeria."

"I was thinking of cousins of ours we might meet, but I suppose it will be alright since they have not developed speech yet."

With that I jumped into his arms and kissed him with a thank you that I know he read as coming from my heart. "You are really wonderful Martin. Thank you." My mobile started ringing.

"James, hello. Is this my travel agent? You know how to surprise your Mum, Son.

You really are over the top with this holiday."

"It should be fun, Mum."

"Not just fun, James, fabulous is the word here I think.

What's up with you and Arthur?"

They were back and headed for the house, quite hungry I imagine. "Oh, James, by the way the kippers you had in the fridge are missing. If you want those, you might want to pick up more on the way home."

0000000000

***To find out about this trip to Spain you will have to read Hands to Hearts by Robspace54. All the things you might expect and more.**


	43. Remembrance Chapter Forty Three

**CHAPTER FORTY THREE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**We rejoin Louisa and Joan who are waking up in Villequier, France on their holiday.**

**CHAPTER FORTY THREE**

As I opened my eyes to the the dim light of dawn coming through the window, the gentle rain falling did not encourage my getting out of bed. I had slept peacefully in spite of the fact that Joan had brought up my cancer. I choose not to be troubled by those thoughts because I have been blessed with life.

Joan was still deep in sleep. Her studies yielded long hours of work and short nights of rest so she was grateful this was a relaxed holiday. My body was forcing me to get up so I went ahead and pulled on some joggers and slipped on a shirt, untucked. Running a brush through my hair I wandered into the kitchen where Madame Baptiste was pouring coffee. Thankfully she and her husband spoke a bit of English and offered me coffee and suggested we sit in the living room. It was small but tastefully furnished, the chairs upholstered in damask. The front window looked out on the narrow street receiving an offering from the dripping eaves.

"I hope the cats fighting in the street last night did not keep you awake."

"No, we slept very well, thank you. I didn't hear the cats. Think I was quite tired after driving from Paris and walking about all afternoon."

I discovered Monsieur Baptiste's given name was Martin and his wife was Martine. He brought me a large cup of _café au lait_. My Martin would so enjoy this. As I began to drink the delicious coffee, Martine asked me what our plans were for the day.

"I really don't know. When Joan comes out, we'll discuss it." She went on with some suggestions.

"Why don't you spend another night here and leave in the morning? You could enjoy a day in our quiet village. You must see the _Musée Victor Hugo_. Then you could have lunch on _La Seine_ at _Le Grand_ _Sapin_. Martin and I would like to invite you to have supper with us."

I began to hear stirrings from our room and it was not long before Joan appeared barefoot, in jeans and a sweatshirt. "Good morning everyone. I can't believe I slept so long. Ohhh that coffee looks so good."

Our hosts went to the kitchen and returned shortly with more _café au lait_, crusty bread with butter and jam as well as fresh orange juice. Simple can be exquisitely delicious.

Sometime around mid morning, having made ourselves more presentable, we wandered into the village. We took our time, savouring the place, greeting people as we passed them. The towns in the north of France are close together but Villequier still had verdant pastures surrounding it, at least on one side. The river Seine defined its full length on the other. Cattle and sheep in the fields filled in the pastoral scene.

We arrived at a large manor house and realized it housed the Victor Hugo Museum. Being France's literary giant, this was but one of several museums focused solely on him. I had read his works a good bit at uni, in translation of course. Millions know of him because of the play, _Les Miserables_. He lived a long and complex life and this museum was another grand tribute to his literary career. You are not here long though before you realize there is a major focus on his daughter, Leopoldine.

After about an hour of viewing displays here and there, Joan and I were drawn to the story and poems about her. In February of 1843 she married Charles Vaquerie, the son of the owners of this museum house. In September of that same year she tragically died in a boating accident on the river. Her husband died attempting to save her. Losing his daughter affected Victor Hugo for the rest of his life. Many poems in the compilation known as _Les Contemplations_ have to do with this immense loss.

As we read the accounts of Leopoldine's life we became unnaturally quiet and somber. Joan finally broke through the cloud of our thoughts. "Mum, this is beyond sad. I almost wish we hadn't stopped here. You should read this poem. It breaks your heart."

"I know Joan. I have read it and I'm not sure I can read it again."

She began to read aloud,

_Hélas ! laissez les pleurs couler de ma paupière,_

_Puisque vous avez fait les hommes pour cela !_

_ Laissez-moi me pencher sur cette froide pierre_

_ Et dire à mon enfant : Sens-tu que je suis là ?_

Alas, let the tears run down from my eyes,

since you have made Men for this!

Let me lean over this cold stone

and say to my child: Do you feel that I am here?

_ Je verrai cet instant jusqu'à ce que je meure,_

_ L'instant, pleurs superflus !_

_ Où je criai : L'enfant que j'avais tout à l'heure,_

_ Quoi donc ! je ne l'ai plus !_

I will see that instant until I die,

the instant, no tears needed!

where I cried: the child I had a minute ago—

What? I don't have her any more.

Thankfully we were the only ones in the museum at the time. Joan put her arms around me and wept silently into my chest, her body trembling with the intensity of her feelings. As she settled some I put my arm around her and we silently exited onto the broad expanse of grounds in front of the mansion. We walked slowly and anyone seeing us from behind would not have been able to tell if it was one person or two.

Neither of us wanted us to pass the rest of the day in this mood but did not know how to shake it. We walked a bit and I recognized how close we were to the restaurant Madame Baptiste had suggested. "Listen Joanie, let's sit down and have a slow lunch and talk if it comes and if not, just watch people and the river."

The young woman brought us each a glass of wine. We decided to wait to order food. I did not want to be quiet. I had to tell Joan of my thoughts from the night.

"Joanie, I must tell you what came to me again last night as I went to sleep. Your speaking about my cancer caused me to relive the whole experience. It flashed through my mind and while no one wishes to go through something like that, it changed my whole perspective on my life, on our family, really. I can never take life for granted. Leopoldine died and that is all so sad, but we are alive and we should live, really live. Going to the museum today sort of underlined that for me.

With a twinkle in her eye Joan said, "Well, Mum I must say I learned a lesson today too."

"Oh. What was that?"

"One should never go out in a bloody boat with heavy skirts on."

How could we not but laugh at a comment like that? The humor was macabre, but it did serve to lighten the atmosphere. So that plus another glass of wine plus a child spilling a whole glass of milk in her mother's lap put us on another track. Now we were ready to eat and this menu held great promise.

The day had turned out beautiful and that always brings people out of their houses. The restaurant was busy. The Seine did not carry romance in its flow today. With our visit to the museum and the rains painting it a muddy brown, it looked very much like,...well, like a river. The only boats we saw were commercial barges. That did not lessen the brilliance of the village shops and houses. The opposite shore was like a green carpet stretching up a hill.

After our meal I suggested to Joan that we should have a sweet. "Even if Marie Antionette didn't really say it, I think it is sound advice. So, let us eat cake!"

We were indulging in a heavenly Opera Cake when my mobile rang.

"Oh no Joanie. It's your father. He has caught us in the empty calories again."

"Hello Martin. How are things there, Love?"

With that we did begin a brief conversation filling each other in on what had happened since we spoke yesterday. I know Martin and he, being at loose ends, had wanted to hear our voices.

I filled him in on plans as I knew them. "We'll spend another night here and drive to Bayeux tomorrow. We can't miss The Bayeux Tapestry and certainly want to visit the British War Cemetery. We'll catch the ferry for home in a few days. What's that? What did you say?"

"What's up Mum," Joan wondered.

"Your father did not want me to ring off. Told me to hold on. Someone is knocking on the door."

He must have carried his phone with him because I heard him open the door and exclaim, "_Eleanor! What are you doing here? _ Wait just a minute."

He walked into another room as he was speaking quietly but in a panic.

His exact words were, _"Bloody hell Louisa, it's your mother. What am I to do?"_

I replied, "Well Martin, I suggest you do not leave her on the door step for when you can, call me back and tell me what has brought her to Portwenn this time."

I rang off and my face must have been a mix of confusion and humor. "Joan, your granny is in Portwenn."

"You're kidding. Granny and Dad together. Just the two of them. Mum, does that change our plans? What should we do?"

"Well, Joan, for now,_ let us eat cake_."


	44. Chapter 44

**CHAPTER FORTY FOUR REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FORTY FOUR**

I hurriedly returned to the door after ringing off with Louisa. Time froze for a moment and there before me was Louisa's mother, Eleanor Glasson, wearing a blue dress with flowers on it and an orange scarf around her neck. As I thought at the wedding, she has not aged well. A bit of a disaster standing before me. My thoughts were a jumble. Why had she returned so soon after James's wedding? And why has she shown up with Louisa across the channel sleeping in hovels and eating decadent food. My greeting was forced.

"Eleanor. Sorry for leaving you on the porch. I had to finish a phone call."

"Hello Martin. Well, manners were never your long suit. All is forgiven. Here I am."

"I can see _that_, Eleanor. Buy _why_? You were just here for the wedding and you have returned. And where is your wheelchair?"

"Oh, Martin, you can't keep this old lady down. I can manage with a cane."

Suddenly, someone called from the drive. "Hey mate, what do I do with this luggage?"

Looking past Eleanor there were three large suitcases by the taxi. It was obvious this was not an overnight visit.

I assisted Eleanor to the living room, leaving the suitcases near the entry for now.

She was quite winded after just that short distance, reminding me that she had used a portable oxygen tank at the wedding.

"Where is your oxygen?"

"It ran out. I hope you can get me one in town. Those dam cigarettes have killed me, Martin, but I would give anything for one right now. I can't smoke and use the oxygen or I could go up in flames. It's miserable."

A lecture would be useless at this point. Usually able to quickly asses a situation, I found that my mind had short circuited. A myriad of questions flooded in. Does she plan to move in here? Had she returned here to die, having a serious health issue? How would she get on with Terry, her former husband? Former? Had they ever divorced? I had to finally ask myself, "What would Louisa do?" That allowed me to make some quick decisions.

"Eleanor, you need to rest. You may stay in Joan's room. I will drive to town and get you a filled oxygen tank."

"Hey, where is my Loulou? Will she return soon?"

"Louisa and Joan are on holiday in France. They should be home in a few days. I'm afraid we are stuck with each other, Eleanor."

"Well, Martin, I must thank you for not turning me out. Our history together isn't the best, is it?"

"Eleanor, you _are_ Louisa's mother. This is where you will stay until she returns. Let's keep our battles to a minimum, shall we?"

"Not much fight left in this old girl, Martin. Show me where that bed is."

I went to the pharmacy and luckily found a portable oxygen tank. I purchased two and was just leaving the store when who should I run into but Terry Glasson.

"Hello Martin. When will Louisa return? Not soon enough for you, eh?"

"Terry. Good to see you about. Louisa and Joan should be home soon."

"You okay? Ya seem a bit tense. Who needs oxygen?"

"It's for a patient and Louisa should return in two or three days." Thinking, _"No more questions_, _Terry_." I got away quickly, fully aware he knew I was being cagey. A patient? He knows I don't have patients.

I stopped at the surgery on my return. I arranged with Valerie, the current receptionist for an appointment for Eleanor. I wanted her to have a full check-up, with lab and X-rays. I doubted she has had the care she needs in Spain, mainly through self neglect.

I returned to find Eleanor in the living room watching television. I decided to make some simple cheese omelettes with toast and tea for our supper. I had found some heirloom tomatoes in the market; perfect with the omelettes. Given the state of her health, I could only imagine the terrible diet on which she subsisted.

We ate in silence. Mostly in silence. Eleanor wanted to make small talk, but I don't talk while I eat. We were finishing with some pears I had sliced when she said, "Martin I want to move here and live close to my family. I love my grandchildren and my Loulou. And I won't leave you out. I have to say, you are better than I ever thought you to be 25 years ago. The thing is there really is not much holding me in Spain. I'm alone. There is no reason for me to stay there and there are many reasons to be here, most of them in this house. There you have it, if you will have me."

Have her. Surely she did not mean living in this house. I need Louisa here desperately.

"You have come and are here now. We will await Louisa to sort all of this. Tomorrow you are going to visit the doctor. You need to be checked."

"I don't need a doctor Martin. Nothing to be done for me."

"Eleanor you do not have a say in this. You are going to the surgery for a check-up and I'll brook no argument about it."

"Dam Martin, I don't like being told what to do. I do have a scar on my tummy that says I should listen to you, but I don't like it. Why do I think Louisa's going to be harder on me than you are?"

"You don't have to like it. You just have to do it. As long as you are near, Louisa and I will be concerned about your welfare."

Eleanor was good at saying one thing and doing another. I was tempted to search her luggage for cigarettes and herbal concoctions, but knew I'd not do that. I would have to keep a close watch on her however, which I in no way wanted to do.

Eleanor told me many years ago that she didn't like me. I had told her the feeling was mutual. We tried to avoid each other since being together inevitably led to an argument. Over time we actually gained an arms-length respect. She knew I would take care of Louisa and I came to see she cared for her daughter. I don't think the wound of her mother's forsaking her has ever completely healed, but Louisa is one to take life as it is.

What affected me most was my children's attachment to their Granny Eleanor, as they called her. Her visits were occasional and never predictable, but she did come and eventually we, with some reluctance, allowed James and Joan to visit her in Spain. I was fearful of catastrophes sure to occur and horrible mannerisms with which they would become infected. Eleanor had said, "Look they have a stable routine at home. Allow their crazy grandmother to have them a few weeks in the summer. I can straighten them out." Louisa told me, "Martin, there is a certain wisdom in what she says. She really loves James and Joan." As it is, Eleanor and my children are very close.

I arose and cleared the table. It wouldn't take long to wash the dishes and I detest arriving to prepare breakfast with dishes in the sink. My back was turned and I thought Eleanor might leave, but instead she asked a strange question.

"Martin, you do know I am your mother-in-law?"

Turning, I assented and with a bit of abruptness said, "Of course I do. Why are you stating the obvious?"

"Well, Martin some people call their mother-in-law "Mum." I wouldn't mind, you know. You've never done that."

Why did she bring this up? When she said it I experienced a wave of pain and near nausea that I had not felt in many years. I would not get into this._ I would not._ I simply said, "Eleanor, the word "mum" carries many bad memories for me. I prefer to call you by your name. Full stop."

My mother had been dead for many years. The horrible truth is that she had been dead to me even when she was living. Terry and Eleanor were flawed and made many mistakes, but they did care for their daughter. It was absurd thinking but Eleanor thought she was doing her husband and daughter a favor by leaving, thinking herself a "crap mum" to use her words. The closest I ever came to knowing motherly love was Auntie Joan. But now I had to confess that in some unexplainable way, even Eleanor had exhibited at times a mother's attention toward me.

Softening my comment I added, "I mean no disrespect. You have to trust me that I have good reasons for simply and always calling you Eleanor."

"I did not intend to resurrect the past for you. I''m tired so I think I will go to bed. It's been a long day."

"Yes, that would be good, Take a glass of water with you. I notice you are not drinking enough water."

"I might as well sleep in the loo."

"Then drink a little now, but tomorrow drink several glasses. Good night."

I retired to my study thinking I might read a bit, but Eleanor's mother-in-law comment had thrown me a curveball. I simply sat thinking for awhile and finally realized Louisa must be wondering what was going on since it was now over five hours since I announced her mother's arrival. I dialed her mobile.

"_Martin_. I've been waiting for your call. What's going on with Mum coming back to Portwenn so soon after she was with us for the wedding?"

"It seems she has left Spain and intends to move here to live. She has brought three large cases. Said there's nothing holding her in Spain and she wants to be with family."

"I read in a poem once that when you go back home, they have to take you in."*

"What are you saying?"

"Oh, it just one of those things I read that stayed with me. She didn't seem well at the wedding. How do you think she's doing?"

"I plan to take her to the surgery tomorrow for a full evaluation. She's a bit weak and requires oxygen most of the time. She still has all of her wits about her. Which brings me to say that I can manage a day or so, but I desperately want you here. How soon can you and Joan return?"

"We plan to leave here tomorrow and travel to Bayeux where we can see the tapestry and the British War Cemetery. I'm losing track of days. Is today Tuesday? Yes, okay, we could take the ferry from Cherbourg to Portsmouth on Thursday and be home by that evening. What do you think?"

"Good. Don't take the night ferry. You need to be rested and I do not want you driving in the dark. Thursday will be good. Actually your mother is quite calm compared to other times, but I don't want to press our luck. I'll do my best not to prompt any fireworks."

"You're the dearest man, Martin. Thank you for taking care of Mum."

"Louisa, she _is_ your mother, and as I think on it, she's the only mother we have."

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*Robert Frost in _The Death of The Hired Man _


	45. Chapter 45

**CHAPTER FORTY FIVE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**Have you ever wondered about Louisa's parents, Eleanor and Terry Glasson?**

**CHAPTER FORTY FIVE**

I am in bed, thankful for the oxygen tank Martin brought me. I lay here, glad the long journey is over and I am where I want to be, need to be. I hope Louisa and Martin have the same opinion. Exhausted from the day, I should fall asleep straight away but my mind begins to wander randomly. The pile of regrets that surround me are many, but it is nothing I dwell on anymore. Nothing to be done about the mess I've made of things.

It felt strange sitting by Terry at James's wedding. Not uncomfortable, but strange after God knows how many years. I think we can be friends or at least friendly with each other. There are no more fights to fight. I want to see him, I think, and soon. With that I remembered the night he came into my life.

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"Ellie, your father and I have been worried sick. Where have you been?...And who is this? Holy Mary mother of God! What happened?"

There we were standing outside my family's flat. I had just come from hospital where I had taken this boy, who I had never met, to be treated for multiple injuries. He told me his name was Terry. My mother's shock was justified. He had a broken nose, his head had a long gash with stitches and he had been kicked so badly he could hardly stand.

"Mum, I can explain but can we get Terry in a chair? He's very unsteady."

There wasn't much she could do, but let us in. Then my dad came from the bedroom and saw all the confusion. "Roberta, is that Ellie...What in the hell is going on and who is this?"

"Bob, just help 'im sit down and Ellie can tell us what's goin' on."

"She better explain. Ya can't just come in here in the middle of the night dragging in a bloke who got the short end of it."

It was a bit of time before any explanations could be given. Terry began bleeding again from his nose and head. With a sheet of plastic on the sofa he was finally lying with wet towels covering his head. It was hard for him to talk because he'd been struck in the jaw more than once.

I finally tried to tell my parents what happened. "I was outside the youth center when these three miserable blokes come up and start teasing me. One of them was touching me and I was afraid. This boy comes up and tells them to stop, to leave me alone.

They told him to sod off and when he didn't they started pushing and hitting him. When he fell one of them kicked him, kicked him hard. I heard one of them yell, "Coppers!" and that set them running.

I was afraid they might arrest Terry so I told them he was my brother and he was trying to defend me. They called an ambulance and I went to hospital with him. He said he'd just got into town and had nowhere to go. I didn't know what to do so I brought him here."

It was my dad who said, "Well he can't do no one harm in that condition. He can stay the night and we'll sort this tomorrow."

My parents were very protective so when I suggested I sleep in the big chair my mother responded with, "You'll do no such thing. Go to bed and if he needs tendin' to, I'll see to it proper."

And that's how I met Terry Glasson. He came to Liverpool looking for work on the docks. He was from a village, Moorby near Horncastle in Lincolnshire, from a working class family. His mother wanted him to finish his Sixth Form but he dropped school after receiving his General Certificate. He had conflicts with his family so when a friend told him he could find a job in Liverpool he jumped at the chance to get away.

My mum took a ferry from Dublin to Liverpool when she was 16. She met my dad at a dance and they married within a year. Being a strict Irish Catholic, they were married in the church. My dad said he was a Christian, but not very religious, an understatement by any standard. Dad was a postman and mum cooked for a public school. I was a true Liverpudlian. I thought I would spend my whole life in Liverpool, until I met Terry Glasson.

No one had ever stood up for me like Terry did that night at the youth center. He had an innocent charm and it was easy to like him. My parents even warmed to him, thankful for his kindness to me. He ended up staying with us for a week. We found his friend from home and he moved in with him, close to the docks where he found a job.

We were sweethearts. If we weren't working, we were together. Life was busy because I did child-minding and worked at a small food store. Terry was at the docks six days a week. After some months he wanted us to move in together. The one check in this situation was my mother. I told Terry we couldn't live together unless we were married. I remember his response.

"You're kidding. Everyone does it now."

"No Terry, not everyone," I told him. "I know my Mum and I do not want to go through the hell it would cause if we just hooked up. I want to be with you but we have to get married."

Well, it was not just a trip to the registrar, I knew Mum would want me to marry in the church. For that to happen we had to counsel with the priest because Terry was not Catholic. He was a smooth talker in any situation, and he said all the right things. The priest agreed to marry us.

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I lay here remembering our happy days. It was young love and it was foolish love. We lived in a small bed sit. Our days were filled with work and our nights with fun and bliss. Sundays found us in the park or at a free concert. Our wedding was in the summer and by winter, just before Christmas, all the signs were present that I was pregnant. In late August with my Mum and a very nice midwife helping, our Louisa Roberta was born.

Life became much more complicated. We did not know all that having a child required. We moved in with my parents because we did not have enough funds to pay for the bedsit. Terry told me he had loaned money to a friend and was short on funds.

I wanted us to have our own flat because it was tense living with Mum and Dad. We would get irritated with each other and it made me so sad. Our baby Louisa did bring us much happiness. She was a cheerful little girl. I always knew when she was about to cry because just before crying she would put her lower lip in her mouth.

I remember the night Terry came home and told me his grandiose plan for making our life better. It is the reason I am lying in this bed in Cornwall as an old woman over 60 years later.

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Terry came home from work a bit late in a very happy mood. We had a jovial supper with Mum and Dad and Louisa entertained us royally. We made very happy love that night and in the afterglow Terry gently shocked me with the words,

"Ellie, I have been talking to a man at the docks who has a boat. He is about to travel to a little village in Cornwall. He told me he knows a farmer I could work for and there are many jobs working on the fishing boats there. It won't cost us a lot to live. It would be so much better than here in Liverpool. I grew up in a small town, and I know it is easier to live there. I think we should go with him."

I was dropped from our mountain of ecstasy to reality in an instant. "Terry, we can't do that. I don't want to leave my parents. I don't want to leave Liverpool. Not a good idea. You have a decent job and I can work. We can have our own place again. Please, let's just stay here."

"Eleanor, there's something else. I owe some money to some blokes who are making threats. It would be good to leave 'til I can pay them. After I get the money we could come back if you want to."

"Terry, why do you owe them money? I thought someone owed you money."

"Look Ellie, sometimes I play cards and I lost a few times. They loaned me money and I thought I could pay them when I won some hands. Now I owe too much and they're making it hard on me. Look, we can come back, but let's go to this nice village for awhile. This guy said we could go with him and he's leavin' in two days."

"Terry, you're crazy. You want me to get ready and take our baby and leave my family...in two bloody days."

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And that is how I came to leave Liverpool. I don't know if Terry ever intended on returning, but we never did and I never have. Ten years in Portwenn and by a twist of fate I spent the rest of my life in Spain. Oh, there were short visits to see Mum and Dad, but I never lived in Liverpool again. It makes me a bit sad even thinking on it all these years later.

I remember that morning when we left with Louisa and our life in three bags. My Mum and I were in tears. We had to take a taxi to the docks where the boat was which would take us away. I remember walking toward this boat and a smiling man coming out to meet us. He walked up to me and very kindly said,

"You must be Ellie. I'm John. John Slater. Welcome aboard. We'll set sail soon."

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Dear Readers: If you like this story about our favorite family some 25 years after Season 6, I believe you would like another story written from an even later perspective.

If you have not done so, look for the story _'Til Death Do Us Part_ by Sendibo and have another very enjoyable read. And thank you again for reading my words and sharing reviews and thoughts.


	46. Chapter 46

**CHAPTER FORTY SIX REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FORTY SIX**

I remember Mr. Slater being a very nice person who seemed to enjoy our company. The trip to Portwenn took three days and thankfully the sea was calm. Even at that my tummy was uneasy most of the time. Louisa was not troubled at all and in fact, calmed by the rolling sea, slept more than usual. One night however she did not sleep well and woke up after midnight. I finally took her up on the deck and could not believe what I saw. The sky was white with stars and even my little girl seemed awed by the sight. She was mesmerized by this bright blanket covering us. Mr. Slater startled me as he came up the stairs.

"You can see it a thousand times and it always leaves you...well leaves you like you're probably feeling right now. I've been wonderin', why are you and Terry going to Portwenn?"

"We needed to leave Liverpool. Terry told me you knew some farmers in Portwenn and that he might be able to find work with them. Why are you going to Portwenn?"

"I'm going to visit Phil and Joan Norton, the farmers I told Terry about. Summer's a busy time so there might be work for him. They have a vegetable farm and raise some animals. It's a bit of a gamble for you two, isn't it?"

"I want to be with my husband so we'll make the best of it. It looks like Louisa has gone back to sleep, so we'll headin' back to bed now. Thank you for letting us travel with you."

"The pleasure's mine, Sweetheart. Good night. I think I'll stay up here a bit longer."

And so it was that John Slater introduced us to Phil and Joan Norton and they introduced us to Mr. Pratt, their neighbor. Between them they did keep Terry busy through the summer. The Norton's invited us to stay with them at first. We needed a place and it was close to the work. We were in a small room upstairs where Mrs. Norton said her nephew stayed when he came to visit. On a table in our room was a large book with pictures of beautiful butterflies. Louisa so loved for me to show her that book. It became a nightly ritual.

The problem was privacy. There were two issues, very squeaky bed springs and the fact that we are loud lovers; well at least I am. We finally put a blanket on the floor. Joan, as she asked me to call her, liked to be with Louisa so Terry and I found a secluded spot amongst some trees and took walks as often as we could without seeming obvious. It was a beautiful place by the pond and a good distance from the house. I know now we were fooling no one. In fact Joan confided that even with the whole house to themselves they used to go down by the pond to be "frisky", as she put it.

I could tell Joan was happy for us. Remembering all of this brings to mind a long conversation with her one afternoon when the men were in the field. I had seen her with tears earlier and wondered what troubled her.

"Mrs. Norton, I saw you crying when you were with Louisa. Is something wrong? Is she okay? Would it be better if we weren't here?"

"First Ellie, let me remind you to call me Joan. And no, don't ever think you are not welcome. Phil and I are happy to have you here. And your daughter is the best thing that has happened to this house in a long time. She's a precious little poppet."

"But why are you upset? You were crying."

"Oh Ellie, I don't know what to tell you. You see, I can't have a baby. We tried and tried and nothing ever happened. The worst of it is that Phil thinks it's his fault and all I can say is that our bed is a quiet one. It all makes me very sad. I can't change anything now but I can love your Louisa, if you'll let me."

"Seems like our being here just makes things worse."

"No Ellie. I was sad before you came. Phil and I are both very glad that you and Terry are here. Phil loves your little girl too. Can't you see his face light up when she sits on his lap? I know you will want a place of your own but you stay here as long as you need to. Thing is there isn't much work in the winter. Maybe you'll go back to Liverpool."

"I don't think we can go back now. Terry owes some money and there are problems. The only reason we came to Portwenn was because Terry met Mr. Slater and he was coming here. Oh Joan, I miss my mum and dad, but we're married so we'll have to figure something out."

"You are here and you have this sweet child. You will do what couples do and make the best of it. We'll introduce you to Jory and Jenifer Davies. Jory works at the quarry in Delabole, and that's year-round work."

"Joan, don't get me wrong. I love my Terry. We are happy together and he makes me laugh. I hate it when he clams up and won't talk. Maybe that's just how men are"

"Let me tell you Ellie, men want to think they're in control. They want to be in charge and make us think everything is okay even when it isn't. Don't you believe it when they tell you men are the stronger sex. That's just pish posh. Manhood hangs by a slender thread. Sometimes you will have to be the strong one, mark my words."

Turns out that we stayed in Portwenn a long time. Not sure why but time gets by and it became our home. Joan became a person I talked to if I needed advice and was like a grandmum to Louisa. We found a small three room house that suited us and that we could afford. Terry did find work at the Delabole Slate Quarry and for a time worked with Mr. Grogan on his fishing boat when his son moved away. It was easy for me to mind children and that gave Louisa playmates.

There's one thing about a small village. You can live in one a long time, but if you weren't born there you'll never be an insider. There are always subtle reminders that you're not one of them. My best friend was Jory's wife Jenifer. She was from London where she had met her Jory when he was in the military. She followed him to Portwenn and knew how I felt. Her little boy was Louisa's age and she had a daughter two years older. I remember a conversation we had one afternoon when I was really missing being in Liverpool.

"Jen, how can you keep living here? You're from London. I'm from Liverpool. We're city girls. Do you think you'll ever get back?"

"Ellie, I know how you feel, but we are with men from small villages and I think they like that better than the city. Jory thinks there are too many problems in the city and he doesn't want to have his family there. It was in the city he got into trouble with his drinking. He doesn't go to the pub because he knows where that will end. I have to say too, Ellie, Cornwall is a beautiful place. It's fresh and not stuffy like London. I believe this is where we will stay. I really hope you do too.

"I want to ask you something, and not to offend, but why do you smoke?"

"What makes you think I smoke?"

"It's obvious. You smell like smoke, your clothes and hair. They tell the tale Ellie.

It's not good for Louisa to be around it. Why do you do it?"

"Terry doesn't like it so I don't do it around him. And don't worry I don't do it close to Louisa. I started when I was a teen and can't stop. It does calm me a bit when I'm upset."

"It's a bloody nasty habit, and a shame you can't quit."

"Hey Jen, I have an idea. The weather is fabulous right now. Talk with Jory and I'll talk with Terry and let's plan to take a picnic up on the cliffs tomorrow."

"That sounds good to me. The children will really enjoy running and playing up there. Let's just tell the guys it's planned."

Being with Jenifer made me wish I had a sister. It made me think Louisa needed a sister. Jennifer and Jory had two so why not us? Sadly it was never to happen. When Louisa was almost three I was pregnant briefly but lost it and I never got pregnant again.

It's a problem when you have one friend and they have more than one friend. Over time Jennifer and I spent less time together. Too, she had Jory's family and mine was a world away in Liverpool. I knew other mums, especially when Louisa started school, but no one was a friend.

I even talked less to Joan although she never stopped dropping by to see Louisa. Sometimes she would let Louisa ride around with her or spend a morning at the farm. Loulou would excitedly tell me of gathering eggs with "Auntie Joan" or that "Uncle Phil" let her help with a lamb.

Terry always stopped at the pub after work and I wondered if he didn't prefer the company of those blokes to me. It probably wasn't true, but that's what I thought. All of it made me lonely and dissatisfied with the life we were living.

One evening after we had supper Terry was playing with Louisa and it just made me feel worse. One thing was certain. Louisa was a daddy's girl. She was always glad when he was around and he liked her sitting on his lap or their taking a walk to buy a sweet. I was with her every day but we we were not as close as I wished we could be and became less so when she began school. I had to be the firm one with our daughter and her dad could simply indulge her. It still doesn't seem fair.

We were always close on funds and for a long time I didn't know why. I suppose Terry's closed-mouth approach to that and other things sowed the seeds that led to our drifting apart. He just wouldn't talk. It didn't happen all at once but over time the happy we had known was not there. I wanted it but I don't know if Terry even felt it. How could I get the happy back again?

I'll never forget the winter night when Terry said he had to go out. It was after nine o'clock and I asked why. He just said not to worry, that he would be back in a bit. Never mind what he said. I did worry. In about an hour there was a loud knock on the door. When I opened it there were two big men in heavy coats with knit caps pulled low. Their look frightened me. The one closest to the door said, "We need to see Terry."


	47. Chapter 47

**CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN**

"We need to see Terry." The words were offputting and I quickly told them Terry was not home.

Threateningly he retorted, "Maybe we should come in and wait 'til he gets back, love."

An icy stab of fear shot through me as I forcefully said, "No!" and in one quick movement slammed the door and locked it.

Through the door the other man in a high pitched voice said, "When you see 'im tell 'im we'll be back."

I ran to our bedroom crying and trembling. I feared for Terry as well as for Louisa and myself. What had Terry gotten himself into? It had to be trouble. I knew too it was over money. Terry was gambling again. I just knew it.

Of course I couldn't sleep and in the early morning hours there was a tap on the window of our bedroom. My heart leapt to my throat and then I heard Terry calling me.

"Ellie. Ellie. Let me in. I don't have a key."

Going to the door I asked him if he was alone.

"Yes, just open the bloody door, Ellie."

Terry quickly entered and I relocked the door. All the emotions of the past hours flooded out in my very loud sobs as I grabbed him in a hug.

"I thought you were hurt or worse. Those men looked mean. Where did you go?"

"So they did come here. I had to go. If I'd been home it might have been worse."

"They almost forced themselves into the house. You knew they were coming, didn't you? Damn Terry how could you put Louisa and me in danger? I can't live like this. What kind of trouble are you in now? It's about money, isn't it. I know it's about money."

"Look El, I had a sure hand, but to stay in I had to have more money. I borrowed 50 quid. I just know they cheated. It's the only way they could have bettered my hand. The only way."

"50 pounds. God Terry, that's a lot of money. Is it like Liverpool and we'll have to get out of town again? Let me tell you, this is your problem and if there's leaving, you can leave, but I'm not going this time. I'm not going."

We heard Louisa cry out from her room. Actually it was the pantry where we had made room for a bed and small chest. Why did she have to wake up just now? Suddenly she was in the kitchen with us.

"Mummy what's wrong? Why are you yelling at Daddy."

"Nothing's wrong Loulou. Just go back to bed."

"But Mummy..."

Raising my voice more than I intended, I told her, "Louisa, go back to sleep. Everything's okay."

I was harsh, but blast it, this had me totally gutted.

Terry interrupted and in a lower voice, announced,

"No, we won't leave, but Ellie, I know you have some cash hidden around here someplace. Please let me have it and I'll replace it. To get these guys off my back I have to pay them. I'll work overtime or do some week-end work on the boats. Just let me have the money. Look, it won't happen again."

That sounded like so much rubbish but I was afraid and angry. I had scrimped and saved for three years and had 47 pounds hidden under Louisa's bed behind a loose board. I gave him the money. It's that simple and that stupid. I knew I would never see the money again.

John Slater had told me how much he liked to winter over in Spain. It was a favorite place for him. He had painted such a beautiful picture that I really wanted to see Spain. At first I thought we could take a holiday there together, but I knew it was an impossible dream. Nonetheless, I had stashed small bits of money away every chance I got. Now the money that fed the impossible dream was gone. Gone like smoke in the wind.

I know I gave the money because I feared for the safety of my family. The rest of that night still is a mystery to me. How is it that after all that, we ended up in bed and made passionate frenzied love? It was as if it would never happen again so I suppose fear drove that too.

Coming down from our intense passion the house became very still. I could hear Louisa whimpering in her bed. Terry had quickly fallen asleep and I got up and went to see about our daughter.

"What's wrong Loulou?"

"Did Daddy hurt you? I heard you scream."

I pulled her up into my lap and held her. She was so confused and I doubt anything I could say would really settle her, but I tried.

"No Sweetheart. I'm fine. Daddy didn't hurt me. I know I shouted at you before. I'm sorry. We were talking about something you wouldn't understand. Everything's fine now. You can go back to sleep."

"Mummy I don't like you and Daddy to say bad things to each other."

I don't think Louisa was set at ease by what I told her that night. Our fighting had upset her and ironically our pleasure had too. I wish it had been the only time she heard us raising our voices, but it wasn't. I know she must have wondered why we were always shouting if everything was fine.


	48. Chapter 48

**CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT**

Why was the light on in my house? I know it wasn't on when I left for the pub over an hour ago. Could Louisa have awakened, or was there something else? The uncertainty I felt about this was not good.

Louisa is a very sound sleeper. Once she's down for the night, she never wakes up until morning. I often have to rouse her to get ready for school. Minding children all day gives me so little time to be with friends. I have taken to slipping out and having a pint or two at The Crab and Lobster. Louisa is ten now and it doesn't seem that risky to leave her. Telling her would only worry her so I slip out and slip back in with no problem. I have no illusions that this is a secret to the village. Every window has eyes and every cobblestone has ears in this town. No, people well-know my comings and goings. I'm guessing they think I am a pretty crap mum.

Terry is gone much of the winter now working on the oil platforms and it's lonely. Life is calmer without him here, but it's still lonely. Why can't it be like before? We loved more and fought less. We used to laugh. We don't laugh any more. When Terry drinks too much we have loud rows. He would never raise a hand to me, but I hate his gambling and drinking. We try to hide all this from Louisa, but I know she is troubled by it all.

I remember too well the day Terry returned from the quarry only two hours after he left for work. I had just sent Louisa off to school when he walked through the door. I knew from the look on his face that something was wrong. My worried response was

instant.

"Terry, what happened? What's wrong? Why are you home now?"

"Ellie, the quarry laid-off over half the workers this morning. They said we can come back in the spring but orders are down and they have to cut production."

Terry is always there with the easy answer, but not this morning. I could tell this had thrown him a bit.

He sounded defeated. My response was predictable.

"What will we do? We can't survive without your earnings, Terry. You said you could maybe work on the fishing boats."

"El, I only told you that so you'd give me the money. Fishermen don't need help in the winter. Many days they can't even go out. The seas are just too rough. Look, I am going to the pub and sort this."

"Bloody hell Terry,_ you can't sort this with a pint._ Likely several pints. You'll just leave me here after this news and go off."

"Maybe I can talk with my mates there and see what they're going to do. I'll find a job some way Ellie. I will. I'll find a job."

I don't know how it happened, but Terry returned with a job. When he returned his whole look had changed. He came through the door with a bag of fish and chips and smiling.

"Ellie, you won't believe it. I met a bloke, name of Clive, at the pub. He works on the oil rigs and said he was sure the rig he was on would hire at least ten of us. We'll have to leave in a week."

If having some brass and food and a house is sweet, then I suppose this had some sweet to it, but it was mostly bitter. Oil platforms are a dangerous place to work, especially in winter.

And it has to be bloody cold and miserable. The worst is that Terry would be gone two months at a time with only a week off in between. I knew I should be grateful that he was willing to do this. Terry was known to avoid hard work if he could. At least he didn't offer to support us playing cards at the pub.

So for three years it has been the same. The quarry slows down and quite a few of the men work on the oil rigs. Mary Flannigan calls us the winter widows.

So when I entered my house that winter night returning from the pub my fears were realized. It wasn't good. My neighbor, Mrs. Trune, was sitting at the kitchen table with Louisa who had a bandage on her head.

"Hello Eleanor. Louisa woke up and went looking for you. She slipped on the wet street and fell against the stone wall by my house. Lucky I was looking out the window before turning out the light. Took quite a lick to her head, she did, and her leg is bruised."

"Oh, Mrs. Trune. I do thank you. Louisa, you shouldn't have gone out. It's too cold and wet."

"But Mummy, I woke up and you were gone. I was afraid and had to find you."

I was at a loss for words because I know I should not have left her alone and not told anyone. In fact that is what my neighbor said as she left.

"I'll be off now and leave you to sort this. I think Louisa'll be fine. Her hurts are minor, but I do think a bit painful. I gave her a paracetamol. Eleanor, if you go out, let me know and I'll

look in on Louisa."

I took that as a rebuke because one, I felt guilty, and two, I didn't want to tell people what I was doing. That's none of their business. Something that was so simple now was complicated.

I knew too that I wouldn't hear the criticism, but the looks would say, "Men can go to the pub at night, but a mum cares for her children." Yes, I was definitely a crap mum in their eyes.

I wasn't trying to get away from a difficult child. In fact Louisa was very good and wanted to please. She is the best one thing Terry and I ever did. She made good marks in school and had friends. I could tell by the way the villagers talked to her that they liked her. Of course she was always special to Joan Norton, her Auntie Joan.

I would not give up my night out so my solution was to have Louisa stay with a friend, mainly on week-ends. Since Jory was also working in the oil, this was quite often with my friend Jennifer. Her daughter was two years older but they seemed to really get on together.

One night I went to drop Louisa with Jennifer and never made it to the pub. Going out on that night was stupid, I know, but I hated being home alone. Opening the door drove pellets of freezing rain into our faces. We managed the two blocks over the cobblestones with difficulty and arrived at Jennifer's. Once inside Jennifer insisted I sit for a minute.

"Ellie, you're _not_ going back out in this storm just to go to that bloody pub. Sit down and we'll have a cuppa. At least do that. Why did you even get out on a night like this?"

"Oh, Jenn, I just hate being home alone at night. The pub is good for some talk and a few laughs. And you know it's funny but those blokes treat me proper like. One night this bugger, he's not from around here, well he starts to get fresh with me. You shoulda seen how quick Mike McGregor and Old Sam put 'im in his place. A sight to see I tell ya. It was a sight to see."

"But Ellie something's changed. It's not bad to have a pint at the pub. I know that, but you're different. You don't seem happy anymore. We used to be like sisters and I don't feel that. You told me once you felt that way. What's changed?"

"Everything's changed. Just everything. Don't you miss Jory? All winter for three years our husbands are gone."

"Yes, El, I miss him terrible. I hate it, but it's what life has dealt us right now and we just have to muddle through and make it. Just a week and the guys will be back for a bit."

I started to tear up at that point and said, "Yes and I want Terry back, but you know what? When he comes back I know we will argue. He drinks more than he used to and we yell at each other."

"Ellie, seems to me you drink more than you used to, aye?"

"None of this is good for my Loulou. I think I'm just a crap mum."

"Eleanor Glasson, don't say that. You are not a crap mum. You take care of Louisa and you love her. I can tell you she loves you and she worries about you. She asked me last week why I thought you don't smile."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her you do love 'er, but that mums and dads sometimes have a lot on their mind and it makes smiling hard. I told her never to doubt you love her."

"Jenn, I want to get away. Maybe I could just go back to LIverpool."

"_Wait_." You mean leave Terry? No, you can't mean that."

"Jenn, I don't know what I mean. Dad called me and said mum has to go in hospital for an operation. I think I need to go see them."

"I'm sorry Ellie. Look Louisa can stay here and I can mind the two children you are caring for now. Why don't you take a week and go. You need to see your mum and dad. You're their only kid. And El, tell me your troubles but spare your parents. Sounds like they're in a hard place right now."

"Jenn, what would I do without you. You're such a good friend."

"Remember, Ellie, you're my friend too. One time you said you felt like we were sisters.

I want it to be like that again."

No pub on that blustery night. Safe in a warm house. We talked long and late. Finally after the children had gone to sleep we went to bed. Lying next to Jennifer was a comfort. I squeezed her hand and simply said, "Thank you."

I could hear her breathing deeply. I couldn't sleep. Tears slowly coursed my cheeks.

Given the choice I preferred the storm outside to the storm inside me."


	49. Chapter 49

**CHAPTER FORTY NINE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

The train from Bodmin station was whisking by fields and fences, but even the exceptionally bright winter day could not make the brownness look good. Sheep were huddled here and there hoping a group vote would bring the spring, or at least a few blades of green grass. Jen had taken me to the station after the children had left for school. Louisa begged to accompany me, but I just wanted to visit Mum and Dad and get out of Portwenn alone for a week. The emphasis being on "_alone_."

Mum was in hospital and Dad had said he would meet me at their flat. I took the Underground to Formby Station and walked my old familiar neighborhood. I became aware with each passing shop and park how much I'd missed Liverpool. It had the winter chill of a port city just like Portwenn, even colder this day. A neighbor, Mrs. Kerr, came out of the green grocer. I called her name and she had to take a moment before she recognized me.

"Eleanor, is that you dear? I can't believe it. Here to see your Mum, Love? I know your dad is worried to death. I can see it in his face. It's good you've come. How're things in Cornwall? You've stayed away too long, you know."

"Yes, I know, Mrs. Kerr. Need to see Mum."

"Well, I hope you have time to pop by for a cuppa. Cherio Love."

When a neighbor sounds worried, it's not good. I found my dad waiting for me.

He's not a demonstrative person so his strong hug said more than he may have intended. He was so guarded in his words about Mum that it would have been more consoling had he just spelled out exactly what was going on.

We sat down in the kitchen, which was more natural for us than the sitting room. I couldn't believe the green plastic tablecloth had not worn out. It was all as if I'd just left yesterday. A weight of melancholy came over me. I brewed some tea and we did talk. Dad explained that Mum had a tumor on one of her lungs that must be removed. My natural question brought the feared answer that yes, it was cancer, and yes most likely caused by the fact that she smoked for so many years.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry. I should have been here more. I'm so sorry."

"Don't beat up on yourself child. You have your life and we get along here. We'll get through this and your mum'll be fine. It'd be good to see our granddaughter, though. Mum was just saying last week how much she'd like to see her. Tell me how you're doing in Cornwall."

"Oh Dad, it's as cold and miserable as Liverpool this time of year. Terry has to work on the oil rigs because there's no quarry work in the winter. We don't like it, but it has to be. You would just love Louisa now. She's a sweet child and does well in school. I'll find a way at break to bring her for a visit."

My mind was wandering. It was so sad they didn't have a bond with Louisa. For this and a thousand other reasons it would have been better had we remained in Liverpool. Why did Terry bugger everything up so we had to leave? Trouble just followed us to Cornwall. Better I think had we stayed and faced it here.

Dad's words interrupted my thoughts. "Ellie, I never told you this but after you left some rough fellows came asking after Terry. Said he owed them a hundred quid. I told them we didn't know where he'd gone. They wanted me to pay them. I can tell you girl, I was glad when they stopped coming. I hope he doesn't mix with a bad lot on those oil rigs."

We finally retired but weariness did not bring peaceful sleep; there was too much on my mind. We were both awake early and I knew Dad had not slept well either. By seven o'clock we were on the tube in route to the Royal Liverpool University Hospital. Mum's surgery was scheduled for late morning so she was still in her room when we arrived.

I entered her room and we embraced, both with tears. "Oh, Ellie, Ellie. I'm so glad you came. I miss you so much and my little Louisa, how is my Love?"

"She's fine Mum, just fine. When I heard you were sick I had to come. Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

"Ellie, no need to worry you with my wee problem. The doctors say that I might need some treatments, but they say I should be just fine. So don't you fret."

Not one thing Mum said or the way she said it did anything to ease my fears. This was serious and I knew it. Mum and Dad knew it too.

"Ellie, tell me how you're doing. What's going on with Terry? And my granddaughter, tell me all about what she's doing now."

I spent the time before they came to take Mum for surgery prep telling her about our life in Portwenn. I took Jen's advice and tried not to let on that there were any problems at all. I was so positive that I think Mum read my cover-up about as well as I read hers.

"Ellie, I don't know. Something's not right. I know you, and you don't sound good.

I hope Terry's not gambling again. I can tell you those blokes that came looking for him, they gave us a fright. Are you two getting on okay? I just wish you didn't live so bloody far away. I worry about you Love, I do."

With that two orderlies entered the room with a nurse to take Mum to surgery. She was placed on a trolley and Dad and I were able to give her a kiss before they took her.

She held our hands and said, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine and see you in a bit."

Dad had told me that the surgery was serious and that Mum would be in the hospital for five days. After several hours the doctor came to tell us that it was over and all had gone as expected. Mum was in recovery and would be in intensive care for at least a day. Dad was not willing to leave hospital. There was no way I would go back to the flat by myself, but I did want to get away for awhile. I told Dad I was going to take a walk. After awhile I saw a hole-in-the-wall pub called Punch and Judy and went in for a pint.

It was well after workers had left for home so it wasn't crowded, I sat at the bar and ordered a Caffrey's, one of Ireland's better influences on England. I nursed my beer, in no hurry to return to hospital. My mind was preoccupied so I was surprised to realize that someone was seated on my left. At first I thought he was a local as his skin was as white as mine. It wasn't until he opened his mouth that I realized he was not from here.

Actually I started the conversation. I simply said, "Hello."

He responded to my greeting. "_Hola._ My name _es Javier_. _ Soy de España_,..from Spain._ ¿Que es tu nombre_? Your name?"

"My name is Ellie. You want to sit at a table?"

_"¿Qué?"_

I picked up my pint and pointed to a table.

"Oh,_ si, mesa."_

I knew no Spanish, but Javier did know enough English for us to sit talking for almost two hours. I completely lost track of time. I explained I was here visiting my mother in hospital. He said he was here with his primo. I thought his name was Primo. Turns out that is Spanish for cousin. They found a cheap ferry and came on a week's holiday. I told him I wanted to visit Spain someday, and he said I should come and he would show me his country. "España es magnifica," were his words. I knew that and now the pull was even stronger for me to see for myself. I had the will and now a way was forming in my mind.

Javier had jet black hair and his dark eyes were penetrating, at least for me they were. I suppose I was quite vulnerable at that point but I was taken with this man. He seemed a bit older than me but not by much. It was foolish to be talking this long with a perfect stranger. How did I even know he was telling me the truth? But something seemed too right about it. Two Caffrey's and the attention of this handsome man had me totally disarmed. My hypnotic state was interrupted when glancing up I saw the clock over the bar. I had been gone from hospital almost four hours. I felt panic in my stomach and knew I should get back right away.

I told Javier I had to leave for hospital, and started to get up. He took my arm and said, "Esperate Ellie. Wait." With that he removed some paper from his pocket and wrote,

Javier Rodriguez

Bar Santa Fe

Calle de Valliciergo, 2, 39003

Santander, Cantabria, Espanña

Tel: 942 33 12 00

He handed it to me and held on to my hand. "You come. ¿You see _España_ with me, no?"

I stuffed the address in my pocket and told him. "Okay Javier, but my Mum is sick. I must go." With that I headed for the door.

As I reached the door a voice called out and grasped my shoulder. Thinking it must be Javier, I turned around impatiently and saw it was another man.

"You dropped this," and he handed me my ring. I must have pulled it out of my pocket after I pushed Javier's note in. I slipped it on my finger and rushed into the cold night.


	50. Chapter 50

**CHAPTER FIFTY REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FIFTY**

I didn't have the cash for a taxi so was breathless when I entered the Royal Liverpool. Taking the lift to the surgical floor, and hurrying to the waiting area I could see a person with his hands covering his face, his arms on his legs. The blue jacket told me it was Dad and my heart sank. As I reached him I placed a hand on his back and cried, "Dad, what's wrong? What about Mum?"

He looked at me with red eyes. "Ellie, something happened. The doctor said surgery went well, but something happened and your mum didn't make it. She died Ellie. My Roberta is gone. She's gone." With that he began weeping again and I hugged him with my own tears flowing unabated.

The doctor explained to me later that night that Mum had experienced an aortic aneurysm, and even though she was in one of the best hospitals in England they couldn't save her.

I already felt as if my world was falling apart and this was more than I could endure.

The hardest thing was watching Dad. The next week went by in a whirl. I had called Jennifer and of course she was willing to carry on in my absence and help Louisa. The flat saw a constant flow of people coming to visit or bring food. It was obvious that Mum and Dad had many friends. Many of them were at the funeral at Our Lady church where I had grown up.

One evening dad and I were alone and I received a call from Jennifer.

"Ellie, it's Jenn. Listen, Louisa is quite upset and you need to talk with her."

"Mummy. Oh Mummy. Please come home. I don't like you to be away from me.

Ms. Jennifer said Granny died. Why did she have to die?" And while she was weepy to begin with, now I could hear her gulping back great sobs. What could I say to comfort her? Her Granny was gone and there was no changing that, and she would have three more days without me.

"Loulou, I'm so sorry. I have to help your granddad with some things and then I will be home on Thursday. Your sweet Grranny was sick and the doctors couldn't help her.

We're all very sad. Be a brave girl and remember she loved you very much."

I felt helpless and decided to call Joan Norton. Louisa loved her Auntie Joan and this would help relieve Jennifer. Joan agreed to keep Louisa at her farm until I returned.

The talk with Louisa opened a difficult conversation with Dad. I felt the need to stay with him but I could not remain in Liverpool.

"Dad I don't want to leave you. Couldn't you just come be with me in Portwenn?

Ellie, oh Ellie, you know I can't do that. I am still working and besides this is where my mates are. You know I am a Scouser through and through. I wouldn't fit in Cornwall. You and Louisa will have to come see me more, right? You will do that, won't you?"

"Sure Dad, we'll come, but I hate you being here in this flat all alone."

"Well Love, there's nowt else about it is there? My Roberta's gone."

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Terry returned in May to full work at the quarry. When you're having troubles to begin with it does not really help to live apart. You get used to it and the routine becomes normal. You say you miss a person and yet when they return the adjustments are hard. I managed things perfectly well and in his return Terry wanted to direct me and tell me how to deal with matters, and we had not a few rows about it. He would rather fly than fight so he would nearly always go to the pub. Then when he came home after a few pints, he wanted to fight. I knew this had to stop. It was affecting Louisa badly.

One night while Terry was out I had decided to go to bed and Louisa came in unable to sleep. I was tired and tried to send her back to her room, but she started to cry and say no one really cared about her. That made me change course and I let her into bed with me.

"Mum, why do you and Dad fight so much. I don't like it when you yell at each other.

I'm afraid Dad will go away like Sarah's dad did. I don't want Daddy to leave."

"Louisa, you don't understand grownup problems. Your dad won't leave." How did I know that? Point is, I didn't, but I didn't think he would. He doted on his daughter and I couldn't see him leaving her. I felt guilty having this talk because at odd times of the day my mind would wander to my going to Spain. I wouldn't leave. Oh no! I would just get away for awhile and things would be better when I returned. I finally was able to calm Louisa and told her,

"Don't worry Loulou. Everything will be fine. I promise. Remember, if I'm busy, you can always call your Auntie Joan."

Life became even busier with the May Fete at school and end-of-school activities.

Louisa, being talented, was able to have singing parts in the school productions. I needed some cash for her costumes and knew Terry had received his pay for the week so I asked him for money for Louisa's program.

"Ellie, I'm running a little short. Maybe you could borrow it from someone and I'll pay it in a fortnight."

"But Terry, you were just paid. Why are you short?"

"Never you mind, Ellie. I'll have it in two weeks, OK? I need to run out and'll be back in a bit."

I knew why he was short and I was angry, more angry than to start a row over this one time. It kept happening over and over. He was gambling as he always did. I know he made more on the rig than he sent me over the winter. I took enough from my secret stash for Louisa's costumes, but I'll have to deal with Terry later.

When I was really angry I worked. I cleaned house or baked bread. I had to expend energy. Better than laying into my husband. I was doing the laundry and saw a jacket tossed in the corner and started to throw it into the wash. I saw something sticking out of a pocket and retrieved the coat and pulled out a paper. And there it was. Javier's address in Spain. I had been so busy of late that I hadn't thought much about it, but there it was, a ticket if you please. I quickly hid it in the tin with my cash.

I had not been myself since Mum died. Her dying was a terrible blow. I had been feeling empty inside, but it was much worse. Sleep was hard to come and when it did, it was troubled. Terry would return from work and I often had not turned a hand to prepare supper, which of course did not please him. Jennifer noticed the difference but nothing she said helped. Then on top of it all the two mothers whose children I was minding told me they had made other arrangements.

Louisa seemed very upbeat with her involvement in all the end-of-school activities. She had a beautiful voice and had been chosen to sing two solos as well as be in the chorus. I was surprised one afternoon when she returned from school very upset. It was obvious she had been crying as she hurried by me and straight to her room. I opened her door to ask what was wrong and was not expecting her words, "Go away Mum. Just go away."

"What's wrong Louisa? What happened at school to upset you?"

"The kids say you're not a proper mum. You go to the pub and mums shouldn't do that, they say. What could I tell them? I just went to the bathroom and cried. Do you still sneak out at night, Mum?"

"No Loulou. I do not sneak out at night. I haven't been to the pub since your dad returned."

I am well aware of the gossip mill in this town and I know where the children got their information with which to tease Louisa. People do not hide their looks. I could not have survived this place had it not been for Jennifer's friendship. If I leave, people will say I was lured away, but the truth is I was feeling pushed much more than I was feeling pulled.

Later that same week Terry was upset with me for neglecting matters. I remember his words.

"Ellie, you stayed at Jennifer's so long yesterday Louisa opened some cans and heated our supper. If I work all day you need to tend to this house and family. You know, we would hardly notice it if you weren't here."

"Terry, I'm upset and just don't care anymore. I don't have any friends and you're always at the pub. We fight all the time. Loulou has trouble at school because of us.

She is such a good child. I don't want to hurt her. Why can't you lay off the drink and be home more? Because of your scheming and gambling we barely have money to get by. If you'd stop that we could go visit Dad and have some nice things. It all has to change Terry. It has to change."

Before walking out again Terry said, "Sound like ya want me to do all the changin'"

It ain't so bad I have a pint on the way home. If I earn the money I can decide where it goes. So, you're right Ellie, something has to change."


	51. Chapter 51

**CHAPTER FIFTY ONE REMEMBRANCE**

**The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.**

**CHAPTER FIFTY ONE**

The May Fete was a success with all the games and plays and general frivolity. Louisa simply shined with her singing. Where did she get that? Terry and I surely weren't singers. Mr. Fenn was a great help to her.

After the main program there was a gathering at the town hall for students and their families. Louisa wanted us to come so I joined her there, not knowing where Terry was.

He came in a bit later, obviously having had too much to drink. He didn't make a scene but he was obviously offensive in his demeanor. I know it embarrassed Louisa. Why couldn't she have a family she could be proud of? I told Terry he needed to leave and he, with raised voice, said,

"Fine. I'll leave. I'll go back where I'm welcome."

With that he left and I was so grateful. A bit later there was a loud disturbance toward the back. Someone said, "It was here awhile ago and now it's gone."

"How much was in it?" said someone else.

"No idea. It had a lid on it with a small opening in the top."

It wasn't long before it was generally known that the contribution box to collect funds to aid with Fete expenses was missing. Obviously someone had pinched it. It's so sad that my first thought was that Terry had taken the money. Just another nail in the coffin of our relationship. Suspicion really does a number on a person, as there was no way to know if he took the box. It would mean a row if I asked about it and we had had far to many lately for me to start another one. I really had stopped caring because nothing was going to change.

My decision made no sense but it was made. I was leaving. I would go to Spain with no idea of when I would return. Returning was possible. I just didn't know. I had reached the end of my tether with Terry. Inside I felt like the waves breaking against the rocks outside the harbor. I couldn't sleep for the turmoil. I was running away and I know I was leaving my Louisa in Terry's hands. I could only hope he would wake up to his responsibility to this daughter. The few sane moments I experienced sent a voice to my conscience, _"And you Eleanor, what of your_ _responsibility to Louisa?"_ I quickly buried those thoughts deep within myself. I wish I could have erased them as they have risen to haunt me the rest of my life.

Terry didn't know it but he did me a great favor. When he was paid mid-June he gave me much more than usual. I asked what was up and he just said he wanted to help with Louisa's costumes and had more money at the time. That combined with what was still in my stash gave me £140. I needed £85 for the ferry to Santander. With any luck I could find a ride to Plymouth.

My greatest conflict was leaving my daughter. In the end she was the only good thing in my life. Thing is I thought she would be better off without me. There would be no more fights and I know her dad, with all his faults, cared about her. Knowing full well he could fail her I rationalized that she still had her Auntie Joan and my friend Jennifer. I would tell her in my letter that she could count on them. I would be glad to be rid of Portwenn, this gossipy miserable town by the sea, but I knew there would be one empty place in my heart that no one else and nothing could fill.

I chatted with drivers and found a delivery van from Plymouth that came through mid morning three days a week. I asked the driver on Monday if I might get a lift and he said it would be no problem, if I didn't tell his boss. I told him I'd go with him on Wednesday.

I spent Tuesday while Louisa was at school writing a letter to her and another to Terry.

_My Dear Louisa,_

_ I want to start this letter by saying how much I love you. You're a good girl and I'm proud of you. You will not understand this, but I have to go away for a time. I don't know when I will return. I'm going to see a friend in Spain, so you don't need to worry about me. I will be fine. My going will bring an end to the the fights in our home. You need to know you've done nothing to make me do this. Your dad and I have our problems and I need to get away from them. I've been even more upset since your Granny died. _

_ There are many people you cannot trust, but you can always trust Auntie Joan and Ms. Jennifer to keep your secrets and help you. Show them this letter. You're a smart girl and can do whatever you put your mind to. Of all the people in Portwenn, you're the one I will miss. You may be sad and it makes me sad to leave you, but it is all for the best._

_I love you, Mummy_

Before going to bed Louisa always told me, "I love you Mummy." It was sweet to hear that every night and as I signed the letter I laid my head in my arms and bawled.

The mind is strange and as my tears slowed something came into my mind that Mrs. Morton had asked me just yesterday, "Ellie, do you have any idea what happened to the money from the fete?" That thought brought me back to my resolve and I began my letter to Terry.

_Terry,_

_ I am very tired and I need to get away. I've decided to go to visit a friend in Spain. Maybe I'll return, but right now I don't know when that might be. We can't stop fighting and you can't stop doing things that will get you in trouble. I've been even more upset since my mum died. Please don't do anything to put Louisa in danger. Take care of her. If she wants to be with Joan Norton or Jennifer, please let her. They are people she can trust._

_ Terry, one time we had something special. I don't know why it went away. Maybe I haven't been the proper wife and mother. I think Louisa might do better without me. I hate what I'm doing, but it's all for the best. I pray you and Louisa will be okay._

_Eleanor_

With Terry at work and Louisa in school I packed a shoulder bag with basics, left the letters to them folded on the table and started out the door. For some reason I turned around and went into Louisa's room. Her pyjamas from the night were strewn on the bed. Her granny and grandad's picture was on the night table. The smell of her powder was in the air. I could picture in my mind her proudly singing in the festival. Tears came to my eyes and I knew I had to stop or I'd never leave. I quickly left the room and shut the door. I was trembling as I walked into the street, thinking I might return, but knowing well that chance was slim. _"Just get away for awhile,"_ I told myself. _"Just get_ _away for awhile."_

I could see the delivery van parked in the distance and hoping no one would see me, went quickly to it and got in. Not long after, the driver came and getting in, seemed surprised to see me.

"I'd forgotten about you. It's a good thing you're here because I'm running late."

He was kind and dropped me at the docks in Plymouth close to the ferry landing. I quickly purchased my ticket and boarded. I was anxious for the ferry to leave, because once at sea there was no turning back. Finally after all the cars and passengers were on board we slowly pulled away from the dock. The trip would take 20 hours, but before finding a place to settle I went to the top deck and allowed the chilly wind to blow through my hair and tried to clear my mind. Louisa and Terry would have discovered my letters by now. The paper that concerned me now was in my hand with _Javier Rodriguez_ penned at the top. I had a few clothes and some personal stuff, £65 and 10 cigarettes. I took one out and lit it. Inhaling deeply I allowed myself to relax. The smoke slowly escaped my lungs and I watched as the wind carried it away.


End file.
